A Criminal Desire
by AllyGarcia
Summary: She was sarcastic. "I don't think any girl was ever just 'friends' with you." Natsume shrugged. "After Imai, who didn't count because she was Ruka's girlfriend and now I think is asexual,"- he ducked another bit of soaking cereal- "you'd be the first."
1. The Party Prelude

**_A CRIMINAL DESIRE _**

**_A/n: Hear Me out People! The first chapter is a bit of a filler. Just to set the scene, so to say. You can skip through it a bit, not much, a bit. It's just to get the right atmosphere. The conversation picks up in the second chapter and then we have some breaking and entering by our very favourite Black Cat -muffled by muse before giving all the details away-_**

**_Edit: This is important. It is mentioned in the author's notes of chapter two that there will be full blown omakes. What I meant was that you get to choose the pairing and the plot for one chapter which will be a filler of sweet fluffy goodness or whatever you want (restricted to rating) and will affect the plot. It's a nice way to let the reader be involved in the story too right? The plot lines are flexible enough for this to work, don't worry. And it helps increase the number of chapters too as well as relationship developement. I really want to try this out. Help me? ^^_**

****Disclaime****r**_: _**You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

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><p><em>The moment that I step outside <em>  
><em>So many reasons <em>  
><em>For me to run and hide <em>  
><em>I can't do the little things I hold so dear <em>  
><em>'Cause it's all those little things <em>  
><em>That I fear <em>

_-I'm Just A Girl by __NO DOUBT_

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><p><strong><em><strong><em>CHAPTER ONE<em>**_**

_Prologue_

**The Party Prelude**

It was a cold night. The wind was like the sharp edge of a knife, carrying with it hints of the coming rain. Streetlamps shone like inviting beacons through the damp fog, the restless mist shattering the steady light into a thousand angles of flickering gold and white. Mikan Sakura wrapped her old coat tighter around her thin form and shivered a little. She'd never liked the cold. Not many did but then, her reasons went far deeper than most. Wishing she had worn something a little thicker and offering more protection against the numbness, she almost walked right past her destination. So wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the large stone gargyles flanking the massive glazed glass doors out of which warmth and laughter spilled out in a steady stream or the flint-faced doorman standing like an alert sentinal before them.

Taking a moment to gather herself, she bit her lip irresolutely. Things were changing. The future was in constant flux. A series of events had led her tonight to this pace, and a bit whimsically, she decided it was straight out of a scene in a movie, where a choice had to be made. A choice that had the power to create an entirely new path to walk down, whether good or bad one didn't know of yet and found out only after that first step had been taken.

A choice that could determine where one lived or died, she ribbed herself. Take a hold of yourself, dummy.

Stuffing her gloved hands into deep pockets, she fingered the hole in one, an action that had lent comfort to her many a time. Picking at the loose threads, she stared dreamily at the large front facade of the Tokyo Blues, a high end hotel this side of the rich and upscale neighbourhood. She sighed a little. She didn't belong here. She probably looked completely out of place in her somewhat worn dress and overcoat with clackitty shoes that had seen more than half a dozen years of service. She must seem like the proverbial bull in a china shop. So out of place and liable to create havoc with her manners and dress. So far from the style of the rich and glamourous.

But she had a purpose and a choice to be made.

Taking her courage in her hands, she stepped forward. The doorman's expression didn't change, though he must probably be thinking what a person like her must be doing at a place like this. But Mikan reserved her opinions. He was broad shouldered and tall, with a shaved head and a multitude of people must have broken that nose in the past for it was as crooked as a witch's nose. She stifled a slight impulse to giggle. With all that, his eyes were large and the colour of dark chocolate, not disdainful or snobby. She trusted the impression peoples eyes gave her the most and it seemed that here was anothe case where the canvas seemed brutal but the paint bright and vivid.

She offered him a smile as he held the door open for her, something he seemed slightly surprised by. Nevertheless, the mask of formality didn't slip from those blunt features, and Mikan walked into the foyer, only her iron will kept her from turning back and running away.

Behind the receptionist's desk waited a steryotipical bored blonde (Mikan smothered a snort, what was it with glamorous places like these and bored blondes?), hair pulled into a sleek chignon and dressed fashionably in a black off the shoulder gown. She eyed Mikan's clothing and general air of friendly amicability with disfavour as Mikan approached her. Blue eyes raked over her appearance with unconcealed snobbery "May I help you?" The woman intoned with an exquisitely arched eyebrow, clearly telling Mikan she considered her to be at the wrong place with that one single action.

"The Nishida party," Mikan said smilingly, refusing to be daunted. "I have an invite."

"You..." The blonde was at a loss for words as Mikan handed over the gilt edged scented card. "Well," Recovering her poise, she shot Mikan a polished icy smile. "First floor, first hall. You can deposit your coat with the attendants in in the cloakroom."

Mikan gave a quietly satisfied smile and thanked her. Feeling a bit of pride swell up at the look on the other girl's features, she squashed it down firmly. She wasn't a guest guest, per se. The invite was just a means to an end. There was someone at the function she was about to walk into, someone special who could help her.

Giving her coat to the attendant, Mikan wished she had something better to wear. The dress was serviciable only, a pale baby blue item with shots of purple at the hem and straps of silk crossing over her shoulders. It had been a gift from her father on her seveteenth birthday. Considering she was now nearly nineteen, it spoke volumes about her financial state.

Squaring her shoulders, she thrust all regrets and worries to the back of her mind. She had a mission and that was what she would focus on. She took the lift to the first floor and paused when her shoes sank into the thick velvety soft carpet. Uncertainity reared its head in her posh surroudings. It was like a lamb foraying into the lions den. If the receptionist had been just bearable, what about the cream of society's youth, forty or fifty,waiting behind those elegant wood doors? This was America sure, but this party was for all those rich Japanese scions who had found it profitable to move to America and expand their businesses. Could she...

"I hope you're not planning to stand out there all night," chirped a cheerful male voice close at her elbows. "If you do, I might be forced to show my chivalrous side and stay here with you, fair lady." The voice was playful, a hint of laughter in its tone. Mikan whipped around in shocked surprise and stared in disbelief as a tall lean adonis dipped into a bow before her, mockingly sweeping low to the floor. He was wearing black dress pants and a charcoal colored coat. Most eye-boggling was the fact that he was wearing suspenders, suspenders over his green shirt. Standing back up, he carded a hand through thick, soft looking, burnished gold hair and threw her a wink. "Though I know of a great place downtown in case you want to blow this joint all together." Those green eyes were smiling at her, inviting her to share some secret joke which she didn't even know.

She blinked incredulously. Her mouth was doing its best impersonation of a fish out of water. Who the heck was this guy?

He frowned. "Or was I wrong and you only wanted to make a dashing entrance. Well, if that's so, why not say so before?"

He grabbed her hand and before she could protest, threw the doors wide open. Throwing her a good natured grin, he yelled out, surprising some of the people standing near the doors, "The wealthiest and most eligible bachelor of this evening has arrived! And I've got the loveliest girl in the room on my arm this evening!"

She blushed red in mortification. Oh god, things couldn't get worse. She hadn't wanted to get any attention, just slip under the radar and try to blend into the designer wallpaper till she got her job done. Now everything had just taken a clean dive out the window. Furious, she snatched her hand back from his grasp and ignored the chuckling she could hear all around her. "What do you think you're _doing_?" she hissed, holding it behind her back in piqued dismay.

He stood back and clasped his heart, looking for all the world as if she had wounded him. "My apologies," he said mournfully. To the room at large, he said "My mistake! The loveliest girl in the entire unive- ouch!"

Mikan had pinched his arm hard enough to leave a mark beneath the superfine material of his coat and shirt.

"One more word," she warned. "I don't even know you, you-"

"Name's Koko." Her self appointed escort informed her with an infuriatingly self-satisfied smile. "Kokoro Yome. I'm the no. 1 eligible bachelor in this room!"

"Well, next to Hyuuga and Nogi, you are," added an amused sounding voice. Turning, Mikan saw an elegantly dressed girl standing next to her, holding a crystal wineglass which she tipped to her lips. A swallow later an innocent look was directed at Koko from beneath thickly lashed eyelids. "Then again, what with Tsubasa and Rui you don't stand a chance, poor dear."

"Cut it out, Sumire!" Koko growled in mock annoyance. He pouted cutely the next , and Mikan's eyes widened. Good God. That mouth should be banished. No way could anyone possibly resist its appeal.

Well, except her and seemingly, this girl.

Sumire eyed Mikan knowledgably. "You don't look like his usual type," she drawled interestedly. "Where'd he pick you up from? A Gap store? No wait, tell me. They were having a sixty sale at Macy's."

Mikan reeled back stung. She'd known the upper class could be rude and biting but she hadn't felt the sting of it first hand to date. And the dress was couture! Or had been, in its heyday.

Koko's back was suddenly in front of her. "Back off, Mire," he chatisized. "She's my girl for the evening. No talking down to her."

Sumire shrugged. "Relax, I was just kidding. The look on your face was priceless. What, you think all of us are snobby don't-give-a-damns? I hate to break your bubble, sweetie but,"- she pursed her lips and shot Mikan a dazzling smile which totally transformed her expression- "But I'm just as into chilli and season sales as you."

Mikan could't help it. A gurgle of surprised laughter escaped her.

Koko shot her a smile and slung his arm around her shoulder companionably. "So my little stray," he wagged his eyebrows, "you never told me your name."

"Stray?" she repeated dubiously.

"Yep. You are. I found you looking all lost and scared and took you under my sheltering wing. No doubt about it. I'm your great savio-ouch! Stop doing that!"

This time it was Sumire who had swatted him with an alarmingly sized tote. "Ignore the fool, darling. What is your name, by the way?"

"Sakura," she said, "Mikan Sakura."

Sumire's smile remained fixed but brittle. Koko fixed puppy eyes on her and asked, "So you don't want to be my girl, Mikan?"

He pouted. It seemed to be his weapon of choice.

She laughed, puzzling at Sumire's wierd behavior. Sakura was a pretty common name. Did Sumire know of anyone else who'd given her cause for such a reaction? "For this one evening only," she countered, eyes sparkling. She could have fun, couldn't she? It's not like it was denied her.

Koko shot up his hands into the air and gave a delighted whoop. "I've been blessed!"

A hand rumpled up his hair. "What's this I'm hearing eh? Relegion your next fad?"

Mikan eyed the new arrival with trepidation. Surely all these high society darlings couldn't all be so handsome. She'd had enough with Koko and whoever Hogi and Ryuuga Sumire had mentioned. The new man was extremely handsome with dark clever eyes and a ready humerous smile. Black hair fell in spiky disarray over well built shoulders. A tattoo of a star was inked on one sharp cheekbone. Those liquid eyes turned to her and conducted a thorough appraisal which left her cheeks burning. "I can see why."

"Don't listen to him." A girl with no, really, pink hair came up and kissed him affectionately on the mouth. "He's a total player."

"Only you wouldn't mind your boyfriend being a total player, " Sumire interjected with superiority, having recovered from what ever had her in its thrall. "Careful he doesn't stray."

"Tsubasa?" The girl laughed lightly. "He knows I'd kill him if he did."

Tsubasa grinned. "Quite so, my Misaki can be quite fierce." A small smile flitted over his lips. "In and out of bed."

"Ew!" Koko looked totally disgusted. "Tmi, dude!"

"Really?" The hand was once again messing up Koko's hair to which he was submitting with surprising docility. "Are you not getting up to any such escapades either? That I find very hard to believe. Did your parents fire that french maid yet? The one who claimed she was so good at 'lave-ing'?"

Mikan felt blank. "French maid?" she said slowly. Then suddenly. "Oh!"

Sumire and Misaki laughed at her expression. "If anyone's a player, it's Koko." Misaki flicked her hair over her shoulder and smirked. "The girls seem to like the cute teddy bear type a bit too much." Misaki and Sumire exchanged knowing looks.

Koko protested loudly with annoyance at the comparision to a soft fur toy.

That was the start of a heated discussion between the merits of action figure good looks and soft toy cuddly cuteness. The main debators being Tsubasa and a flushed Koko, being egged on by a suspicious leer on Misaki's face.

Sumire linked an arm with Mikan and pulled her away, surely but steadily. "Once they get started, they don't stop," she explained while making her way steadily toward a buffet styled table. "Koko and Tsubasa are cousins and spent their childhood being homeschooled together. Misaki and Tsubasa have been together since she began attending a school near Tsubasa's favourite jazz bar. That's why they're so secure with ech other. It's sickening."

"And you," Mikan asked genuinely curious. "Don't you have a boyfried?"

"I wish," Sumire deadpanned. "I haven't liked any of the ones I've seen so far and the ones I have well, completely untouchable."

"What?" she asked, confused.

Sumire sighed and picked up an angel on horseback, biting into it with sudden relish. Without saying anything, she pointed to the opposite corner of the room.

Mikan looked and her jaw dropped open.

Dear, sweet Gods in heaven.

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><p><strong>AN**: This is just like the beginning intro. It gets much better afterwards, once I just finish fleshing it out. Read and review. No cookies for guessing who Sumire is talking about!


	2. All That's Best Of Dark And Bright

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER TWO

**_All that's best of Dark and Bright_**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

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><p><em>Overcome the obstacle of animosity<em>

_Take me to my old back yard security and famil__y_

_ When all is said and all is done_

_I'm__ not the only one_

_ When all is said and all is don__e_

_ Take it all for granted i don't mind _

_-Alone in a Crowd by Catch 22_

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><p><em>"And you," Mikan asked genuinely curious. "Don't you have a boyfried?"<em>

_"I wish," Sumire deadpanned. "I haven't liked any of the ones I've seen so far and the ones I have well, completely untouchable."_

_"What?" she asked, confused._

_Sumire sighed and picked up an angel on horseback, biting into it with sudden relish. Without saying anything, she pointed to the opposite corner of the room._

_Mikan looked and her jaw dropped open._

_Dear, dear, sweet Gods in heaven._

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><p>If Koko's pout were to be banned, then these two should be locked up and never shown the light of day.<p>

The one on the left, tall, broad shouldered and lean limbed was a walking add for male perfection. A chiseled profile, hard jaw and bone straight nose complemented perfect skin and inky black tousled bed hair. This was a God stepped down to walk among mortals. His physique was perfection. A long fingered hand clutching a glass of red wine was tipping it down through sultry lips fashioned it seemed, only for kissing. From this distance she couldn't make out his eye color but the vibe he gave off was plain even at the length of a football field. It was dangerous, sent out predatory signals and suited him to a T, his every moment sleek and graceful like those of a jungle cat.

He turned and their eyes met.

Crimson, she registered somewhere in her dying brain. It was like the shock of sudden cold water, that piercing gaze catching her offguard. Then he turned back and she breathed easy once more, calming her thudding heart.

He was talking to someone just as handsome as he was. Blond sun streaked hair and vivid blue eyes, the other was a total contrast to his dark good looks. While he was dressed in a crimson shirt and black suit, the second man was wearing a white suit and a cream shirt. Mikan blinked rapidy. In reassesment, she figured she should have known that everyone here would be handsome and beautiful and totally untouchable.

"Wow," she croaked out.

Sumire sighed despondantly. "I know." She attacked a prawn pastry with sudden ferocity. "Too good to be true," she murmered, her eyes closed in bliss as she chewed elegantly.

Mikan didn't think she was talking about the food but then again, she couldn't be sure.

"So... not to be rude or anything but how did you get an invite. The Nishidas are notoriously high handed," Sumire murmered in an offhand tone as she surveyed the selection of hors d'oeuvres on various platters.

A rush of adrenaline flowed through Mikan's veins. She had almost forgotten the purpose of her presence here! "I'm an artist," she answered equably, the well practiced words falling from her lips easily. "My father sold them a few of his paintings a while back and they said they'd consider backing me for the rest of university if I can prove my talent was as good as his. I guess this was their way of breaking the ice."

Sumire frowned but then nodded. "Was your father, by any chance, Izuki Sakura?" she asked tenatively.

Her eyes filled with astonishment. "You knew of him?"

"Yeah," Sumire hesitated. "I was sorry to hear of his... passing."

"It's okay." Mikan shrugged but she was fisting her hands tightly to keep them from trembling. Her father had meant the world to her. He had taken the responsibility of being a single parent very seriously. When she was ten, her father had sat her down and told her that no, mommna was never coming back but momma was in a better place now so she shouldn't cry. She had nodded gravely back at him. Finances were scarce. They had lived in a tiny home just big enough for the both of them.

It hadn't fazed him though. At that moment, her father had only been starting his career. He had juggled both it and an infant daughter admirably. He'd taken over all housekeeping duties, even teaching her to cook and eating all her dumpster worthy offerings. He'd held her and comforted her when the other class students made fun of her for being a late developer and he'd even gone running to the all night store when she'd first got her periods. He'd been both father and mother, best friend and confident and he'd died a few months ago, immediately after being commisioned to do a second series of painting for the Nishidas.

Just when things were beginning to go good for him.

She didn't think it was a coincidence that her father had been shot dead by a would be robber who while rifling his pockets had taken all his money but left a silver cigarette case lying near by. Any thief worth their salt would have taken it. It didn't gell either that they had found him in a stretch of parkland which only Mikan knew he claimed to hate since it offended his artistic sensibilities, having no landscaping whatsoever. Or that a number of other people had met the same fate within a similiar timeline. Or that he had called her just five minutes earlier, tellimg her he would be heading over to the Nishidas so not to wait up for him.

Something was wrong.

There had been many other signs too. Things her father had let slip, things she'd figured out on her own watching him as he got increasingly nervous the last few days before his death. Something was suspicious and she had been determined to find out what. Which was why she was here again. The invite had been a piece of pure luck.

The Nishida head of house had come to see her to commiserate over her father's death and to pay for the last painting he'd done. Some of her work had been drying on easals in the studio her father had put enough money together to buy and Takahashi Nishida had expressed an immediate interest. When he'd heard Mikan was considering dropping out he'd immediately suggested that they pay her fees in return for a free sitting now and then.

Mikan had agreed. And then, by chance, someone had rung up to enquire about the party and he had invited her to it as well, telling her it would help with PR and that she would be wise to cultivate any and all she met there. Mikan had accepted. It was like the golden fruit falling into her lap. By pure luck, she had gained access through the invitation to the one person she needed to meet in order for her plan to work.

Speaking of which.

"Hey, Sumire," she called, placing a hand on her arm. "I heard Imai Hotaru would be here."

Sumire rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. That woman goes anywhere they serve crab. And I heard Nishida special ordered seacrab for her alone. The caterers are being paid extra for it too."

Mikan blinked. It seemed she was doing that a lot. "Uh, do you think I could meet her?"

"Sure, why not." Sumire absently picked up a roll of sushi which lay next to the continental style food platters. Her amber eyes narrowed as she inspected it. She raised her hand and pointed one long exquisitely laquered green nail. "She's over there. If you don't have a death wish, you'd better steer clear of ever mentioning Nogi in her presence."

"Okaaay," Mikan drawled lightly, unsure whether she was being made fun of or not. "I'll do that."

She picked her way among the guests to a table situated near huge french windows open to the night air. She shivered again. Damn it was cold. The girl who sat there seemed totally unfazed by it. She had short midnight blue hair, and pale amethyst eyes that looked too world weary and blank for someone her age. She was sitting alone and eating from what looked to be an enormous plate of baked crab in white sauce.

Mikan gestured at the chair opposite her. "May I...?"

The girl gave her a steady look. "You may as well, Sakura-san."

Miakn was greatly entertained. "You know my name?"

The other girl shrugged, an annoyed look momentarily passing over her delicate features. "It's my business," she said softly.

Hotaru Imai, twenty four years of age and already the owner of a huge multinational company that specialized in corporate security. Her father had reportedly given her a large sum of money do do as she pleased with on her eighteenth birthday and Hotaru had taken that and quadrupled the returns of her investment within six months. Having specialized in science, specifically biomechanics, she worked at her own company, developing new tools and technology for corporate bigwigs, at the same time as being its CEO and running it herself. She had graduated summa cum laude at the age of sixteen from university.

"Well, okay." Mikan propped her head on her arm and stared out the window pensively. A few minutes passed in silence. Hotaru seemed content with consuming alarming amounts of crab. "I need your help."

Hotaru paused midbite. Setting down her fork and spoon, she dabbed painstakingly at her mouth with a folded napkin. Her eyes serenely gazed at Mikan. "I was wondering how long it would take you to bring that up."

Mikan resisted the urge to blink. She already knew her name. What else would she be knowing? "My father-"

"Izuki Sakura, I presume. I was interested in his work."

"Yes," Mikan swallowed the lump in her throat. "He was a great artist. I don't think his death was natural."

Hotaru raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"I need you to help me find out what happened."

Hotaru dipped her head, then stood up and made to push her plate away. "You have the wrong person, Sakura-san. I run a security business not an investigative agency. My job is to keep people safe from threats, not search out leads and put the culprits behind bars. Have a good night."

Mikan shot up too and grabbed a thin wrist arodned with only a classic Tag Heuer watch. "_Wait_! Listen. Blue Sky. What does that mean to you?" she questioned urgently.

Hotaru stiffened, then swivelled back toward the table, sittting back down composedly. She crossed her legs, the sheer hose accentuating her slim calves. "It seems you have done your research after all," she said contemplatively, folding her arms and waiting for Mikan to continue.

Mikan sagged with relief. So she hadn't been wrong! She had found a list of names in her father's personal diary. All of them had been involved in high end security deals. Under Hotaru's name, the words Blue Sky had been scrawled hastily and an adress. Visiting it after her part time job waitressing in a maid cafe, Mikan had discovered it to be one unprepossing looking building among many in a non-spectacular area.

Feeling somwhat stupid, she had staked out the building and noted that it had a stream of visitors of all different nationalities. She had even spotted a dignitary or two. It seemed completely unbelievable that no one noticed all these goings on but Mikan reminded herself that she only knew because she was looking.

Taking a leaf out of hollywood movies, she had ducked into step behind a pair who had just left. She caught the tail end of the conversation they had going which ultimately put her in possesions of the facts she wanted. In the nicest phrasing possible Blue Sky was an agency which did investigative work. It also, if what she had heard was right, sometimes took the law into its own hands. It was discreet and got about by word of mouth. Of course it seemed no one had any idea who really ran Blue Sky.

"He didn't have any enemies, not even one. So I can't think why... but I know it was not normal. So will you help?" she asked quietly.

Hotaru sighed. "I'll see what I can do. But be warned, my prices are seldom affordable"

Mikan stood her ground And she could afford to sell some of her fathers precious paintings which would cover the cost. The pain she would suffer at losing them would be nothing compared to the joy of brining his killer to justice. "I think I can handle it."

Hotaru's eyes narrowed, "And not _one_ word to any body. This is not something for public consumption, understand?"

Mikan mock saluted. "I wont breathe a word."

"Good," Hotaru sank back into her chair. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

Recognising a dismissal when she saw one, Mikan about turned and walked away. Looking around she saw Koko in enthsuastic conversation with some one she couldn't quite see. Heading in his direction and trying to keep him in sight, Mikan bumped hard into someone.

"I'm sorry," she apologised quickly. Lookng up, she saw it was the second of the gods she had seen earlier. His blue eyes crinkled accompanied by a warm smile. "No need. It was my fault as well," he said in a friendly tone. Warm hands landed on her bare arms, steadying her.

"Mikan!" Koko's loud voice greeted her ears joyfully. "There you are I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Mikan smiled back in reply, and called out. "I've been right here! I just seem to be making a habit of bumping into strangers."

Koko reached her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You seem to do that a lot eh? First me and now this guy." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Strangers no more," the other said, smiling, a dimple forming. "I-"

"I'll do the honours," Koko cut in, looking affronted. He waved a hand. "This, my dear Mikan, is the one and only Nogi Ruka who's only ambition in life is to become a full time vet. And that, is the infamous Hyuuga Natsume,well, whom I'm sure his fangirls will be only to happy to tell you about."

The person who'd been standing just behind Koko where she couldn't make out their face stepped aside. She gulped. Oh. Ooh. It was god number one. And his attraction had just multiplied a million times up close. It was like he was oozing sensuality from each and every pore on his body.

He was staring at her with utter dislike etched on his face. A lip curled, and Mikan was victim of an extremely insulting look.

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><p><strong>An: Tada! Hehe! Don't worry things are moving along quite fine. Mikan has claws to rival our Black Cats -muffled by muse before giving away all the trade secrets-**

***ESCAPES***

**And she wakes up and he's hovering over -muffled again-**

**Muse: That's enough. Keep them guessing. Tell them about the review game.**

**Clarinda Wale: *coughs* You're so dusty muse! Ah... review game? Oh yea...!**

**Muse:...**

**Clarinda: Right right. Um.. the first person to review chapters from now on... in a very nice fashion meaning no flames, gets a sort of omake with their two favourite charecters from this story. But... this omake will also determine how the story progresses.. for example, if you want Sumire and Koko to eh, have a fight and then fluffy friendship make up scenes, the aftermath will show up in the story affecting their relation ship in the story... but omake is maily for cute dumb incidents which might show up as flashbacks or blackmail hehe, think Natsume knowing of Mikan's obsession with her cute stuffed toy... she does't have one? Why you could make her have one! And give Natsume so much blackmail material...why resist! Why why why? -Waves a stuffed black cat -So...**

**...review! Hehe (yesyesIknowIknow)**

**Reviewers number two and three also get to collaborate on the scenes but the main pairing and situation are decided by reviewer number one. Chapters five, ten and so on are reserved for full blown omakes! If you don't think it's a good idea or have suggesntions on how to improve it... please either pm me or leave it in a review.**


	3. Say Sorry To My Back

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER THREE

**_Say Sorry To My Back_**

**Disclaimer**: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

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><p><em>I'd take another chance, take a fall<br>__Take a shot for you_

_And I need you like a heart needs a beat __But it's nothing new_

_I loved you with a fire red-_  
><em>Now it's turning blue, and you say...<em>

_"Sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you_  
><em>But I'm afraid...<em>

-Apologise by One Republic

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><p><em>Koko reached her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You seem to do that a lot eh? First me and now him." He waggled his eyebrows at her.<em>

_"Strangers no more," the other said, smiling, a dimple forming. "I-"_

_"I'll do the honours," Koko cut in, looking affronted. He waved a hand. "This, my dear Mikan, is the one and only Nogi Ruka who's only ambition in life is to become a full time vet. And that, is the infamous Hyuuga Natsume whom I'm sure his fangirls will be only to happy to tell you about."_

_The person who'd been standing just behind Koko where she couldn't make out their face stepped aside. She gulped. Oh. It was god number one. And his attraction had just multiplied a million times up close._

_Those ruby eyes eyed her with disfavour. "What's this?" Hyuuga asked bluntly, voice rumbling out in a throaty baritone. "Another one, Koko? Didn't you learn from the last? I thought better of you."_

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><p>Mikan was hurt a lot more than she should have been. This was no Sumire, no indeed. Fine. If he could claw, she could spit. "And apparently, he doesn't care very much for your opinion," she put in sweetly, sliding an arm around Koko's neck and giving him a light peck on the cheek. Koko looked surprised but extremely pleased. She winked at him out the corner of her eye and was met by an answering grin of enjoyment. "Quite right," Koko added quickly, smirking. He pulled her closer.<p>

Ruka laughed. "She's got claws, Natsume. You've finally met your match." He explained, "No one dares stand up to this guy, not even the cattiest of girls. He could land you in the gutter with a single phone call."

Mikan paled. Oh, she though. Wow. Emergency, body. Extricate foot from mouth.

Hyuuga snorted. "Tch." He eyed her once again, the haughty tilt of his head leaving her in doubt as to what his opinion was of her. "Koko, I'm leaving. You can get Alex to drive you home."

Kokok saluted, and Mikan watched as the tall raven haired man strode away. His powerful physique and intimidating aura cut a direct path to the door for him. She narrowed her eyes. She had the feeling she'd never like him.

Ruka sighed. "He's always been that way. Well, anyway, Koko, I need to get down to some business so I'll leave you both to it." Smiling and bownig, he turned away.

Mikan watched him walk away to where two girls were standing. One had pink hair elegantly done up in a french twist and the other dark blue hair held up in a chic knot. Mikan frowned. Was colouring hair a fad among these people?

Koko, watching Mikan's gaze travel had a look of understanding on his face. "They're not his girlfriends, you know."

"What?" Mikan spluttered, completely diverted from her train of thought, "I wasn't, I mean- I-"

Koko smirked knowing. "Yea, right. Denial. Nonoko is his secretary and Anna is... I don't know what you'd call her but she helps in mixing up formulas for his animals. Nutrition diets and that kinda stuff."

Mikan put aside arguing to ask curiously, "Which is Anna and which is Noko?"

"Nonoko. Anna has pink hair and Nonoko's the other one."

"So this party thing is not just for uh..."

Koko grinned. "Right again. Nishida routinely hosts these parties for us. He likes a tight knit group. He invites all these up and coming artists, lawyers, business people, anybody who's got the stuff in them, and mixes them up with us. They're his protegees and we're the ones who'll take them around and build up their standing so they have a solid base. I guess you'd be a protegee huh." He smiled.

Mikan nodded. "I'd guess so too."

"Don't get me wrong. We're not all snobs like Mire mentioned. We like these parties, it gives us the chance to mix with people who've not only seen the normal side of life but who blow us away with their talents. Humbles us, if you know what I mean." He looked intensely serious. "I mean, life's not all a silver spoon and cradle. We might have the money but they have the world at their feet."

"Wow," Mikan was genuinely amused. "Profound, Koko."

He scratched his head sheepishly. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not uppity. I heard from Sumire that you're an artist. I'd like too see your work if that's possible."

"Aiming to be her sugar-daddy?" Sumire had sneaked up to them on silent cat's feet. "But Koko dear! You're much too old. When did you start cradle-snatching?"

Mikan started laughing till she felt tears come into her eyes. Koko stood there, grumbling quietly and pouting. It was **_adorable_.**

"How-how old are you Koko?" She gasped out finally.

"Twenty-two," he said proudly. "Last year of university."

Sumire cocked a brow. "Don't let him fool you Mikan. He took bio-mechatronics. He's got another twenty years till he's free from the clutches of that harpy. I wouldn't waste my time."

"Yea but Mikan would." He pouted at her while she tried to digest he fact that this goofball personna was majoring in science. "Right?"

"Right," she gave in. "Alright then, you can tote me around like an objet d'art."

His eyes darkened. "A very pretty one."

Was he flirting? No way, right?

"Thank you," Mikan allowed. She knew she looked good. From her mother she'd got her personality and wide cinnamon eyes. From her father, his throaty laugh and burnished brown hair. She'd never had to complain about he skin either, being creamy and spotless. No gyms either except to tone up her muscles. She felt she had it a lot better than others did.

Sumire frowned. "Mikan I hate to say this to you but a lot of girls have fallen flat for that line only to stare in dismay as he jetsets away in his glinty Mercedes a few fun filled weeks later. No, Koko, don't argue. She needs to be warned." She glared at him, pursing glossy lips and tapping a stacato beat with one Christian Souboutin. The tote made a reappearance.

Mikan shook her head. "Don't worry about me. I don't fall so easily or quickly."

"Hey!" The blue haired girl, Nonoko had come rushing up to them urgently, "Sumire, help!" She placed an urgent hand on Sumire's arm. "It's Ruka and Hotaru. They're at it again."

"No!" Sumire was instantly aghast. "Where? Let's go."

She disappeared behind Nonoko in a flash.

Mikan turned to Koko with a question hoveing on her lips. He took her arm and pulled her along in the direction the two girls had gone. "They dated a while," he explained briefly. "Tha was till Hotaru caught him with another girl. Ruka says she had surprised him and jumped on him giving no opportunity for refusal but Hotaru- you should know her, Hotaru Imai, Sky Inc Ceo, yea, she's trained to be suspicious what with her job and won't take him back."

"Oh," Mikan was touched that Koko would share what had to be a private deal with her. 'I talked to her just a while ago."

"You did?" His voice was incredulous.

"Yeah. She was nice, if a bit... reserved."

"She doesn't talk. Period. Became even more monosyllablic after they broke up." His eyes scanned the room.

Mikan shrugged but had no opportunity to say more as they came out onto the balconey. Sumire and Nonoko were also standing thee, looking unsure how to butt in. Hotaru was up against a pillar, knuckles clenched white around a half filled wine glass. Her eyes were steely and her mouth pursed in a thin line. She lifted it to her lips and took a sip unconcernedly just as Mikan caught up to Koko. "No."

The blonde man standing in front of her gritted his teeth. "No what?"

"No means no, Nogi, or did you forget what that meant when you decided to let that...troll slobber all over you." Hotaru cut in disdainfully.

Ruka began pacing up and down in front of her, eyes pleading. "I've told you a million times, Ru, she jumped me. I was surprised and by the time I pulled her off, you had disappeared. Why didn't you give me a chance to explain?"

Hotaru closed her eyes and turned away. Her white dress fluttered in the wind lending an eerie air to the whole situation. When she spoke her voice was soft. "You were kissing her back. No, don't deny it. I saw you. What, you don't think I don't have cameras everywhere, do you? It's in my job description. I reviewed that tape for hours. " Her voice broke but she continued on steadily. "Every moment in slow motion. _You_ kissed her. _You_ betrayed my trust in you."

Ruka blushed. "I-"

"No," Hotaru's voice was cold. "I don't want to hear anything more from a liar and a cheat."

He grabbed her arm angrily. "Give me a second chance, Ru. Bloody hell, I made a mistake. So what? Peo-"

"But I told you," Hotaru cut in, "that you could never afford to make a mistake with me." She calmly tipped her wineglass down his shirtfront. "Never speak to me again. Excuse me, but my ride's here. "

She strode past Mikan, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Mikan was jolted out of her trance like state when Hotaru brushed past her. She wheeled around, searching for her but the crowd was too dense and she was already long gone.

Ruka hung his head, his posture slouching. She turned away when she saw the telltale sparkle in his eyes. She never liked to wach people cry. It felt like intruding upon something vulnerable and unguarded.

Sumire caught her glance and took her hand. She mumbled a quick sentance to Koko then tugged Mikan away. She looked back to see Koko ushering Ruka away. Nonoko followed. Sumire threaded her way past a few tables before stopping at one. Quite a few people sat there. Tsubasa, Misaki, Anna and others she didn't know.

"Ruka and Hotaru had another break up fight," announced Sumire in an exasperated tone.

Tsubasa groaned out loud, fished in his pocket and handed over a ten dollar bill to a smirking grey haired boy. "Fuck," he muttered. "And I was sure he wouldn't go up to her this time, that blasted puppy. Talk about a sorry state of affairs."

Misaki slapped hs shoulder. "Quiet," she admonished. "That poor kid is in love, can't you understand?"

"Yea," chorused a pair of voices. "You wouldn't understand since you're only in it for the-"

"Hmm?" Misaki asked two youths who looked identical copies of each other, a telltale twitch blooming at her jaw. They shrugged, looked at each other and broke out into award winning smiles. "Why, your boyfriend is in it for the sex, Misaki-onee-chan," said the one on the left, his voice pitched high and sweet.

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><p><strong>An: Anyone up for the omakes? Review game? If you wanna refresh your memory, head back to chapter two. I'm making the chapters shorter now to get more omakes in between.**


	4. Looking Right Through

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER FOUR

**_Looking Right Through You_**

**Disclaimer**: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

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><p><em>Why, tell me why, did you not treat me right?<em>  
><em>Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight<em>

_I'm looking through you, where did you go_  
><em>I thought I knew you, what did I know<em>  
><em>You don't look different, but you have changed<em>  
><em>I'm looking through you, you're not the same<em>

-I'm Looking Through You_ by _The Beatles

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><p><em>"Ruka and Hotaru had another break up fight," announced Sumire in an exasperated tone.<em>

_Tsubasa groaned out loud, fished in his pocket and handed over a ten dollar bill to a smirking grey haired boy. "Fuck," he muttered. "And I was sure he wouldn't go up to her this time, that blasted puppy. Talk about a sorry state of affairs."_

_Misaki slapped his shoulder. "Quiet," she admonished. "That poor kid is in love, can't you understand?" She shook her head._

_"Yea," chorused a pair of voices. "You wouldn't understand since you're only in it for the-"_

_"Hmm?" Misaki asked two youths who looked identical copies of each other, a telltale twitch blooming at her jaw. They shrugged, looked at each other and broke out into award winning smiles. "Why, your boyfriend is in it for the sex, Misaki-onee-chan," said the one on the left, his voice pitched high and sweet._

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><p>His twin laughed and elbowed him in the side, ducking when Misaki's fist swept through the air just aove his lowered head. "I think she's mad," he confided happily.<p>

"I do-don't think you should um... say that," piped up a wavering soft voice. Mikan looked in surprise at a timid girl with silverblond hair who sat next to the twins. "Tsubasa-nii and Misaki-nee-chan are very much... in love too!" she ended in a rush, cheeks warming up.

The twins pounced on her gleefully. "Oh, Nobara-chan!" They chanted. "Don't worry, you're our one and only true love!" The girl blushed another ten shades of interesting red and squirmed in her seat as each twin took one of her hands and made as if to kiss it, puffing up their cheeks exaggeratedly.

"Cut it out Kai, Hiro. You're embarrasing all of us," said a studious looking type, dressed completely formally, not a button out of place. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave a faint hint of a smile, nodding toward Mikan. "I think you've shocked her enough."

"I told you this would happen," said another girl with dreamy grey eyes. She looked anorexic and dreamy. "You had to bet on it anyway." She sighed. "Next time I _won't_ tell you."

Misaki shook her head. "Oh Yura..."

Sumire giggled. "Let me introduce you Mikan, before you run away of fright. The twins are Hiro and Kai Nishida, who seemed to have watched a bit too much of Ouran High when they were young. The cute one they're harrasing in Nobara Isagi who's too shy for her own good. The one with glasses is Yuu and he's a total nerd. He still goes to all those science fiction get-togethers where they dress up as alien invaders and what not. The one by him is Youchi, who swears by Hyuuga as his role model. That is Yura Otonashi and she's got a gift of prescience. Or sixth sense whatever. She's also got a built in radar for when ever those two have their love spats. Tsubasa and Misaki, you already know. This is Anna, Ruka's nutritionologist of his precious animals and that's Nonoko, his secretary. Gosh, my mouth is dry! Here, sweetheart, pass me a glass of that, would you?"

She plopped down in a chair and gulped down the offered glass of punch thirstily.

"Hmm," Mikan cocked her head thougthfully and debated. "Will you give me a head start if I run now?"

The table exploded in laughter. Tsubasa winked at her. "I like this one," he said, smle curling up the corner of his lips. "Mire said you're good with a brush. You should show us sometime."

"I will," Mikan agreed, smiling easily.

"Where's Koko," asked Hiro, green eyes curious. "Left already?"

"No," Nonoko said. "He's with Ruka. Hotaru dumped a glass of wine down his shirt."

Whistles rent the air. "Never took Hotaru for that type!"

"You mean not even when she humiliated him in front of that rich politician from home sweet home, or when she had his Porshe towed for parking in a non-parking spot outsie her workplace seven consecutive times or when she ripped up all his bouquets and returned them to him in properly marked envelopes," questioned a skeptical Misaki. "C'mon boys. That girls got a spirit of vengeance behind that cold veneer."

Yuu shrugged. "I don't understand why he still moons after her."

Mikan cleared her throat. "Misaki said it already didn't she?" she said, voice soft and a little bit too revering. "He loves her. Totally. I could see it in his eyes and hers too. It's the big one. He probably knows and Hotaru too, only she's trying to deny it." She knew it was true. She was a lot more sensitive than others and her artist's temperament helped her read between the lines/

There was silence.

"So, are you an artist or a psychologist?" asked Kai, boggling at her. "That was so_ profound_." His twin nodded in agreement.

"No," Mikan said. "I'm an artist true. We observe people and things for a living. You learn to read your subjects through their eyes when they're not allowed to move and have to express eveything though eye-movement. Usually by rolling or exasperated skyward jerking," she added to lighten the moment.

Nobara sighed. "It's too bad then..."

Koko walked up to the table, a sorry looking Ruka with coat on and fully buttoned up in tow. "We're leaving. Hey, lovely stray, need a ride?"

Mikan was quick to shake her head. "No, it's fine. I'm good."

Koko leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Please? He was already part drunk but I got him fully plastered. It's the only way he copes. I need your help in getting him home."

Mikan tipped her head to the side, "Why don't you ask Sumire or one of the others?"

"They all have their own rides. Ruka, Natsume and I stay together in the same building. Alex is our chaffeur. Please?" he begged, unleasing pout 101. Ah, the evil lure.

"Okay then." No one could resist. It should be banned that diabolical thing... She stood up. To the others she said, "Looks like I'm leaving. It was nice to meet you all." She cracked a shy smile.

"Bring her again, Koko," said Misaki, Sumire nodding in agreement. "She's cool. Just don't date and dump her or you'll have me to answer to." The exquisite looking girl cracked her knuckles, for a moment looking very rough and tough. Koko mimed jumping to attention and saluting. Sumire blew a kiss at Mikan and winked. Mikan blinked when a number of white namecards were thrusted at her. Was this how they did it here? "Um, thanks."

A chorus of byes were exchanged and then Mikan followed them out to the elevators. It was then that she realized what Koko had meant. Once out of the sight of his friends, Ruka sagged immediately, his steps veering left and right. "Damn," he choked out, looking miserable, "I drank too much."

Koko shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled cheerfully as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor. "It's what you get for doing this everytime dude. Why don't you just forget about her?"

"I can't," Ruka said in a hushed voice, his face dropping even more if that was possible. "You wouldn't understand."

Mikan scowled lightly. "Leave him alone, Koko. How would you feel if the girl of your dreams duped you without an explanation?"

Just for a moment, a shadow passed across his face. "Well, usually it's me doing the dumping so I wouldn't know," he said airly, reverting back to his usual self.

Mikan shook her head in disgust as the elevator pinged. "Dumb," she mumbled as she gently helpd Ruka inside.

Koko pressed the button for the basement. "That's why I never get involved myself. But you deserved it buddy. What was that about you kissing that troll again?"

Ruka turned red. "I thought it was Hotaru," he said finally, red creeping up under his shirt collar.

Koko turned serious eyes on him. "Last I heard, Hotaru had black hair and blue eyes, while that bitch was blonde and green eyed. Try again."

"No really," Ruka protested half-heartedly. He sighed heavily. "It was my birthday," he admitted. "I had just got home. The door was unlocked and I presumed it was Hotaru since only she has my key. The lights were off. Someone grabbed me while I was searching for the light and kissed me. I thought it was Hotaru and I kissed her back. Next thing I know, the place is flooded with light and Hotaru's standing at the door, looking completely shocked." He smiled bitterly. "That was the first time I ever saw her look so hurt. She let immediately and never came back."

Mikan didn't know what to say. It was probable, judging from the miserable cast to Ruka's shoulders that he had done enough self-flagellation to himself. "That woman... she climbed up the fire escape and broke a window just to get inside, claiming she knew I wanted to be with her," Ruksa said, sounding repulsed. "She'd unlocked the door with a key she found inside. I kicked her out but the damage was done." He closed his eyes. "Hotaru was holding something. She dropped it when she left. It was meant to be a present for me. It was a deed." He swallowed convulsively. "She'd bought a petstore nearby for me. An entire pet store, can you believe that? I'd always been railing about the way they treated their animals and she..." He trailed off, at a loss for words. With a groan and a choked sound, he clutched his head in his hands miserably.

A bloody pet store? Gosh what did rich people have for pocket money?

The lift had reached the basement a long time ago, and was being held there by Mikan's finger on the open close button. She touched Ruka's back sympathically. "Cheer up," she said. "Hotaru will see light one day. In fact, I'm seeing her soon. Maybe I can..."

The look on Ruka's face was so naked and full of hope, she could hardly bear it. "I'll try my best," she said finally. Koko, without a word, but with suspiciously bright eyes, grabbed Ruka and hoisted him out into the parking space. Mikan followed them both sighing at how stupid everybody was being. Morosely she thought that not just she had problems. It seemed that she would have to play maker-uper instead of matchmaker.

The drive was mostly silent, Ruka sprawled out on the back seat, Mikan in the front with the afore-metioned Alex, trying not to let her jaw touch the floor. The car... _well_... she had no words. The seats were so soft and the engine ran like music. She could hardly feel any bumps.

As if that wasn't enough, the flat turned out to be something out of a Lifestyles magasine. She seriously hoped she would't freak out or do something stupid. Like grab everything to see if it was really as fancy as it looked. Smoothing her hair out, she climbed out the door and went to stand next to Koko who struggled out the back, a heavily dazed Ruka in his grasp.

"You can go," he nodded at the chaffeur, who touched his cap and drove away to park somewhere, Mikan supposed. She wondered how she was going to get back now. "I'll drive you home myself," Koko said, rightly interpreting her look. "Just help me get this lump inside."

Mikan braced her shoulder under Ruka's arm, while Koko did the same and wrapped an arm around his waist. They walked Ruka into the building where the doorman and the sweeper swobbing in one corner barely looked fazed. They must be used to these scenes. Mikan stifled a giggle. How many times would they have seen a lovesick Ruka returning in this state? Seventh floor, Koko directed the woman behind the palatial marble counter. Mkan took in the lobby. It was understated, all elegant wood and marble. A few couches were placed at strategic intervals and there was even a fountain sprinkling merrily away in one corner. The whole set up reeked of money.

"Nice place," she remarked.

Koko didn't even look up. "Everything gets stale after a while."

Another quiet elevator ride. Ruka was on the verge of dropping off. His blonde hair stuck messily to his face and his pallor wasn't too great either. "I hope he doesn't throw up," muttered Koko, checking on his state. He tapped his foot and whistled the elevator tune cheerfully.

Mikan huffed. "Stop baitng the guy. He's sick on his feet." Ruka lurched, turning green as the elevator came to a stop. "Si- " he gasped, eyes widening.

Koko practically jumped out. "I'll open the door," he yelled over his shoulder. "Get him inside before he does something he'll regret later."

"You mean like throwing up on your shirt?" Mikan stuck her tongue out sarcastically. _Great, now I have to do it all by myself._

Ruka chuckled softly. "Look's like you'll bear the brunt of it if I do decide to make a fool of myself," he observed. Mikan just couldn't resist his tiredly sweet appeal. "Yeah," she said. "Now heave-to."

She somehow managed to hold him up as they stumbled down the hall together. Koko was waiting by a door, the only door in the entire hall apart from another a ways down. He opened it and ushered them both inside. Ruka collapsed onto a couch. In seconds, he was snoring.

Mikan stood back and observed the bachelor pad for it was one if she'd ever bet on it. It was purely masculine. The room had a thick rug on the floor and a number of worm leather couches. A rolled up magazine lay on the low glass coffee table next to an empty coffee mug acting as a weight. There was a huge flat screen occupying half the entire wall opposite the couches. A hall lead off onto unseen areas. She bit her lip when she looked at the low chest of drawers. There was a picture of Hotaru on top, smiling minutely at the camera. And gradually, she came to see the feminine touches in the room. There were dried flowers in a vase on the small table by the window. The sit in on the window sill had pale blue coushins and a book with the title Business Insights for Dummies. The smell of lavender hung in the air, something she'd noticed Hotaru wearing earlier.

"He's got it bad," she mused aloud.

"What he'll have is one hell of a hang-over tomorrow," Koko said. He turned to Mikan. "I'll just drop you off and come back later."

"No," Mikan countered. "He's pretty sick. Just point me to the closest bus stop. I'll get home myself."

"Nonsense!" Koko chimed. "A man doesn't leave his lady stranded. Come on," he tugged Mikan's hand. Laughing, she let herself get pulled outside. Squealing as she tripped and landed on him, Mikan tried to scramble to her feet. Koko was laughing now too. "A real man also doesn't let his girl trip," he said and cheekily stuck a leg out. Mikan flopped over his foot and fell once more. "Ass," she grumbled good naturedly.

"Koko." The voice couldn't have been colder if it had been made of snow. "I see you're back."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: No guesses as to who the voice is. :p Wait patiently! Next chapter we have Mikan, a bike, and a Hyuuga. Ooh, interesting. And then the Hyuuga does-**

***muffled by psychotic muse***

**Muse: You dare? You dare give away the secrets to my masterpiece?**

**Clarinda: Um. No.**

**Muse: Good. *POCKETS SWISS ARMY KNIFE* Now do as I say and announce the winner.**

**Clarinda: *coughs* ok. Ehm. The winner of omake is... 12star98na! Yayz! Next chapter is for you! :D That was a wonderful request you had! I'm doing my best to create it for you! All other reviewers til date, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It makes my day, really. My teacher was wondering why I kept grinning like a loon during class. I felt insanely happy reading your comments on this story so far. Oh, and the rift between Ruka and Hotaru will have an important role to play in the future which is why I'm stressing it so bad. And Mikan needs a reason to meet up up with Natsume. doesn't she? *grins***

**Adieu, all yours,**

**Clarinda**

**Ps. I shall update the next chapter plus bonus chapter once I cross the fifteen review mark. Yep, I'm greedy (lol) but all authors want to know what their story is like and what readers think about it. And as many favourites and story alerts as this story has got (which I am extremely happy and grateful to you for) I need some lovin reviews. ^_^**


	5. So Close To You

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

OMAKE

**_Close To You_**

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><p><em>Why do birds suddenly appear,<em>

_Every time you are near?_

_Just like me, they long to be,_

_Close to you._

_Why do stars fall down from the sky,_

_Every time you walk by?_

_Just like me, they long to be_

_Close to you._

_ -Close to you _by_ The Carpenters_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

* * *

><p>Nogi Ruka considered himself an optimistic, friendly, charitable kind of person. Someone you could like easily. Some on you could count on.<p>

But, as he discovered, none of his supposedly positive qualities were helping him along in his quest to win back Hotaru.

It seemed that every time she turned him down again, his optimism wore down a little more, and every rebuke she uttered made him shrink and wish he hadn't said anything at all. Her every word now twisted deep into his heart, leaving an aching gap which their happiness once filled. His Hotaru, the only one he loved, the one whom he cherished with all of his beating heart; his Hotaru seemed to be gone, and in her place was this beautiful creature who looked exactly like her but looked through him with cold, cold eyes.

Ruka sighed where he'd propped himself up againt the island in his kitchen. Eyeing the dark decanter of whiskey that stood before him, he sighed again, watching the cold gleaming liquid shining through the glazed glass invitingly as if it knew all his problems and wanted to help him drown them. His lips twisted ruefully. He all too well knew of its shallow allure and the wicked hangover it would leave him as its parting gift...

She would hate him even more if she knew what he did to drown his sorrows.

Ruka, with trembling fingers, poured a healthy amount into a tall glass and downed it, tipping his head back and feeling the burn recede down his throat.

The glass was crystal and it sparkled in the faint light. Just like _her_ eyes used to, when he'd drop in out of the blue, out of the order she liked so much. He knew that though she liked everything in its place and due time, his sudden visits gave her happinness too. And though she would reprimand him for dropping in uninvited during office hours, her deep purple eyes would gaze at him so fondly that he'd feel himself falling all over again.

It was like a drug. She reeled him in and he _never_ wanted to let go.

He couldn't remember or even want to remember, a time without this love.

He'd first met her when he'd gone to pick Natsume up from a meeting with her. Natsume had been intent on getting his whole company premises outfitted with her security label, and being a big deal, the company CEO had herself met with him.

They'd walked out of the board-room together after the meeting concluded. Natsume had emerged first, distinctive by his dark hair and rust hued eyes and behind him followed the most enchanting creature Ruka had ever seen. Ruka had felt his stomach drop, drop, drop, till he was empty and floating and then an odd feeling of butterflies rising in that emptiness and shaking the tremulous silence on wings of rushing air...

This was it, he could feel it in his bones. This was something he'd dreamed all to much about. This was... this **_was_**...

Words died on his lips when that graceful head on its swanlike neck turned toward him. The frostiness had simply added to her allure. She'd gazed at him without any emotion in her eyes, a calm regal bearing enveloping her and yet he'd felt as if he was enveloped in the softest of cocoa butter, weightless and rooted to the spot all at once.

Natsume'd taken one good look at his face, rolled his eyes and introduced her in a gruff voice, seemingly somewhat amused. Ruka had eagerly drunk up her name, her station, everything. He wanted to know her. He just wanted to know all about her. He wanted _her_.

Her disinterested greeting fell like music to his ears, the soft pleasant voice soothing things he hadn't known existed.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Imai." His overly cheerful smile made her recoil slightly . She shook his hand, the grasp dry and impersonal. "Likewise, Mr. Nogi."

"We have to go, Ruka," Natsume cut in forcefully, his good deed for the day over and done with. "I need to make that meeting with the board by three."

Ruka was downcast, but he swore to seet his beautiful angel with the gossamer skin and pearly colouring soon.

"Alright." He clasped her hand again, longing to feel her skin against his once more. "Goodbye."

He'd reached the end of the corridor and turned. She was still standing there, eyes watching them go guardedly. When she saw him turn back, she held his gaze for a moment before turning and walking away indifferently.

A small seed of hope nurtured itself in his heart.

Maybe, just maybe.

* * *

><p><em>I am a time change because line breaks do not cut it. Nice to meet you. Time changes and I bid you adieu.<em>

* * *

><p>He checked his watch for the tenth time. He was one fifth nervous and four fifth anxious with a round dose of tension to top it all off.<p>

The two cups of coffee in his hands burned like they were still being filled, frothing at the rims, exuding vaporous heat.

He leaned against a blue vintage 1959 MGA convertible, waiting for Hotaru to emerge from the office building. The doorman had been shooting him suspicious looks for a while now and Ruka didn't blame him. Only an idiot would park right outside a building on 59th street. Only an idiot would park outside Imai Security on 59th street, especially with that lovely no parking warning in front to deter them.

But the man obviously knew his cars and knew if Ruka could afford that, well. He must be 'some one', so it went no further.

He adjusted his stance, and smiled ruefully. This wasn't like him at all. He was usually the shy kind, embarrassed easily and he didn't actively persue girls. It was no hobby of his unlike his best friend. Ruka had always felt that one day **it** would just happen to him, so there was no real rush and no hurry. Now it had happened and he was left floundering in the waves. It made him wish he had at the least dated the occasional admirer. He had always been cowed in the company of the more forceful ones and sworn to himself he'd never ask a girl out. But now he was all but begging Hotaru to go out with him.

His heart lurched when the door opened and Hotaru Imai walked out, distinct by her short inky black hair and porcelain skin, along with the subtle yet well tailored outfit she had on. He took a deep breath and strode forward.

She hesitated slightly when she saw him and gave him a quick nod. Her eyes fell to the cups in his hand. She made as if to step aside but he quickly forestalled that. Standing determindly in front of her, he extended one cup. "Coffee?" he offered, smiling charmingly.

Her expression didn't change. "Decaf mocha latte with marshmellows, medium?"

"Er." Flustered, Ruka shook his head. "No."

"Then I must decline. Good day, Mr. Nogi." She dipped her head slightly and walked away. She was followed by a man in a blue suit, obviously a guard or chaffeur of some sort who shot Ruka an unreadable look as he passed. Ruka's eyes widened.

He blinked. What had just happened?

Had she really... **_really_**?

This had never happened to him before. He'd never gotten rejected(ever) this way before and the sting was palpable. Her refusal was all the more frustrating. He glared just a bit at the coffee cups, but since Ruka was by nature a gentle soul, the glare wilted and dwindled into a sad frown.

His shoulders slumped. He ignored the slowly dawning light of comprehension on the doorman's face as he got back into his car. The coffees were discarded from mind. Instead it was filled by Hotaru's lovely classic profile and her slenderness and her lavender perfume. And that softly uttered but nonetheless firm refusal.

This was at least a start.

Ho took a pen from his pocket and scribbled decaf mocha, marshmellow on one palm.

That was his first rejection ever.

That was also his first rejection by Hotaru Imai which would soon subsequently grow to a large and possibly alarming number if Ruka weren't so determined.

He was outside her office everyday. Every evening he would approach her and offer her a drink according to her specifications which changed by the day as he found out much to his chagrin. Some of them were downright ridiculous. Others were impossible combinations. It was a hopeless case, guessing the right combination she would demand but it was thrilling too, hoping one day it would match and she would have to accept.

It was a game, he knew. Hotaru was toying with him as one would with a new notion before either discarding it as a bad idea or going for it. But it was still a game and Ruka was still being played.

Instead of being insulted or even disheartened, Ruka was... intrigued.

She was like none of the girls he'd ever known before.

But weeks went by and still she remained the cold and distant figure he had first seen.

She showed him no favour but didn't ask him to stop either. It was very confusing working out where he stood with her if she made even a coffee date so difficult But then as the gravepine told Ruka, Hotaru didn't date. She was reputed for being frigid but he stoutly refused to believe that. He reasoned she had just not met the right person and he so very much wanted it to be him.

He felt it. He felt it in his heart, in her fingertips and Ruka was an incurable romantic. He believed in love at first sight and this was it.

Everything about her called to him.

He tried flowers next.

* * *

><p><em>I am a scene change because I like it. Nice to meet you. Scene changes and I bid you adieu.<em>

* * *

><p>Hotaru's eyes blinked once, then again. She scrutinised the flowers on her desk carefully, then gently moved one to pick up the card that lay underneath. A small tilt of her lip upward comfirmed it. Ruka Nogi, huh. She carefully studied the stunning array of roses, memorizing their beauty before pressing a small button underside her desk.<p>

A second later, a woman poked her head in through the door and bowed deferentially. "You rang, Miss Imai?"

"Yes," Hotaru replied pensively. "I did. I need you to wrap these flowers up and send them to this adress with this note." She wrote, in her neat slanting scipt on a small piece of blue stationary and handed it over to the secretary.

The woman took it, somewhat surprised and her eyebrow rose when she read it. However, she nodded in agreement and left.

Hotaru sat behind her desk, in her office, in the building on 59th street and her lips tilted upward again. There was no expression in her eye to give her away.

* * *

><p><em>I am a scene change because I like it. Nice to meet you. Scene changes and I bid you adieu.<em>

* * *

><p>Ruka looked at the half wilted flowers lying on his table, unwrapped from their package. He would have wilted just like them, all his hopes crushed but for one little thing.<p>

I do not like roses, Mr. Nogi.

And so it went on and on.

Ruka tried everything from the flowers to coffee to confectionary. Even tickets to amusement parks and invitations to an upscale nightclub in Chelsea. But Hotaru utterly refused to be swayed. Either he would be met with an outright refusal or the things would be returned to him, waiting for him to find them outside his door, neatly parcelled as always.

The game still continued, it seemed.

If he were a sane man, he would have given up long ago, or would have started now. But love and his heart were fickle things and they armtwisted him to continue for they firmly declared they could not live without her.

This confusing tale of events had Ruka feeling more miserable than usual lately. One day he returned to find the latest in a long string of gifts returned and Ruka just_ brok_e.

Natsume found him heavily drunk and near to passing out in his bathroom. The door had been open and Natsume, bless his gruff heart, had ventured within to see whether or not Ruka was alright. He was not.

Half an hour later, tucked into bed and very faintly embarrassed still, Ruka turned away his head from Natsume's questioning glare.

"It's hopeless," he croaked despondantly. "I was wrong. She must hate me."

The only response from the Hyuuga was a snort. He didn't bother asking who Ruka was talking about.

"I must be an idiot," Ruka muttered.

He was startled when Natsume spoke. "You still don't seem to understand this particular woman, Ruka. Ofcourse you're an idiot."

Ruka turned over and stared. "What?"

Natsume stood up and started for the door. "Every woman has her weakness," he said decisively. He pulled the door open and paused, seemingly debating whether or not to let Ruka hang.

Ruka waited with bated breath for a cheatcode, a level skip, something that would help him beat this game.

"Crab." Natsume said simply, then shut the door and let himself out.

Ruka tilted his head in bemusement. "_Crab_...?"

The next day had Ruka standing again in front of Imai Security. The doorman and he had become fast friends after a few such encounters. The guy gave him a half hearted shake of the head when he showed up. They had both come to believe that Hotaru was never going to give anyone the time of day but, and Ruka promised himself, this was the last time, and if she refused this, he would give up altgether because this was really tearing him down.

When Hotaru stepped out and flashed disinterested eyes over him, he did nothing. She came down the steps and began to walk past him as always, that was, until Ruka held up the two coupons in his hand.

And for the first time ever, Hotaru paused and looked at him.

"Hmm," she said.

He cocked an eyebrow hopefully. "It's only on today."

"I see," she said consideringly.

The bodyguard came up behind her but she shushed him with a wave of her hand. Turning back to Ruka she stared him down with those powerful purple eyes. "You're learning," she finally said, a small smile on her lips. It was faintly mocking.

His cheeks grew hot.

"Pick me up at seven," she said then and walked away again.

But this time, Ruka had got what he had wanted.

Natsume never did find out who sent him the basket of Chardonney though he had his guesses.

* * *

><p><em>I am a time change because Ruka wants to fast forward. Nice to meet you. Time changes and I bid you adieu.<em>

* * *

><p>So Ruka wined her and dined her and didn't mind so much that her entire attention was on the crab buffet. When not eating, she was an intelligent conversationalist and topics ranged from the current financial world to training pets.<p>

Wonders of wonders, she owned a black kitten by the name Mr. Puddle. When asked why the name, she simply stared back and replied, "Don't ask."

Now that Ruka held the key to her acceptance, he was not at all shy of playing that particular trump card.

The crab roe was never returned.

Neither the little crab charm.

Or the crab patterned coasters.

But little by little Ruka's insecurities came to the fore. They had a pleasant time together, enjoyable even, and she seemed agreeable to his company. But then, he couldn't shke the suspicion that all he had, he had got only because and it seemed silly to admit this, because of the crab. If she was still playing the game, it was now a cruel joke on her part because he was in so deep, he couldn't see past his own nose.

Would she refuse if he offered her something other than crab as a bait? Was she mocking him still? He never had the courage to try that out and was sinkingly afraid he was right.

Things came to a head one night when they wer taking a leisurely stroll after a dinner consisting of, yes, crab as the main course.

Suddenly, a great force barrelled into Ruka and he lost his balance. Looking up in surprise, his head snapped back as the burly man punched him full in the face and then kicked him hard.

Ruka may have abhorred all kinds of violence, and his life's goal was to become a vetrinarian. Yet that did not mean he was weak or unable to defend himself when needed.

Swinging under the oncoming right hook, Ruka delivered a lethal hit of his own before sweeping the man's legs out beneath him. The man scrambled back up, then jerked as a sharp sound rent the air. Something pierced his chest and he fell back, insensate on the ground.

Ruka turned around, incredulous, and saw Hotaru staning calmly behind him. She held a gun in her hand.

He was at a loss for words.

"What... did you _kill_ him?"

Hotaru shook her head. "Tranquiliser dart. We should go."

Ruka took a step toward her, then crumpled to the ground. The pain in his leg had just made itself known in a blinding flash.

Hotaru briskly knelt next to him after replacing the gun in her purse and felt his leg. He winced when she touched a particular spot. His eyes fell on the man and jerked back to Hotaru.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

She didn't dissemulate. "Rival company probably."

He eyed the well dressed man out cold on the grond, then looked away from the tazer the man hadn't got a chance to use. His blood ran cold at the thought of Hotaru defenseless against that. _She may have had a gun but if she had been alone..._

"Is this normal?" he asked her. She had mentioned that Imai security was still a branch of her father's company which had refused service to a few questionable foreign countries. He hadn't realized the real extent of what she meant till now.

She shrugged. "No. But Rui usually takes care of all threats."

Ruka looked away. For some inexplicable reason, he found himself wanting to bash the unconscious fellow into the ground and kick him a little till his rage abated. His fingers curled into fists. He couldn't even bear to think of this lovely godess getting hurt.

Nogi Ruka did not consider himself one to condone any sort of violence.

But as he was fast coming to realize, in Hotaru's case, that was an entirely moot point.

He'd gladly love her, protect her, and be by her side for all of eternity. But there seemed to be no gameshark to help him out here.

"I can understand if you would wish to desist from further contact with me."

He froze. His brain took a long moment to break down that sentance into something resembling coherence.

"_What_?"

Hotaru studiously avoided looking at his face. "This sort of thing- My life and anyone who is involved in it is prone to such. It isn't exactly a safe-"

"What are you saying?" His heart sunk. Was she trying to brush him off again?

Hotaru sighed. "People around me get hurt," she admitted softly. "My job requires a lot of commitment and taking risks and anyone in my life would have to do the same. Now that you've gotten a chance to see what could be, I can understand if you-"

She stopped speaking when his finger pressed against her lips firmly in a warning. She watched him like one would an experiment which hadn't shown the expected behaviour. Her head tilted and her mouth opened but then closed. She eyed him curiously.

Inside Ruka was shouting with joy. He had his proof. He had seen it. And heard it. He now knew and Ruka knew he wasn't mistaken. She herself had given him the codes to beat her game. Apparently the game itself was a lie, fabricated to keep him at bay till he saw what her life truly was and it had served its purpose well.

Ruka considered himself a person who took when opportunity was granted.

"Hotaru," he said simply. "Shut up."

And then he tugged her down and sealed her lips with his.

* * *

><p><em>I am a segue back to the present . Nice to meet you. I segue and I bid you adieu.<em>

* * *

><p>Ruka put his glass down on the counter and stared somberly at the darkness outside his window. He stood slowly and grasped the bottle by its neck. Carrying it over to the sick, he leaned unsteadily by the side as he poured the contents down the drain.<p>

The game was back on.

* * *

><p><strong>An: So this is the omake! :) From now on Omakes are awarded as prizes to the first reviewer of particular chapters cuz if I had one for every chapter... lollz**

**Muse: This was a nice break from the main line. I hope you're ready to get back to work. *taps a strange evil looking mind transfer device***

**Me: Er. Gulp. Ok. *tries to run away***

**Adieu, all yours**

**Clarinda**


	6. Illusion's Truth

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER FIVE

**_The Illusion's Truth_**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

* * *

><p><em>There's something underneath your bed,<em>

_Pull your sheets up over your head._

_You here something, what was that?  
><em>  
><em>Afraid of things that go bump in the night.<br>_  
><em>The candle in the pumkin is the only light,<br>_  
><em>So get ready for the fright of your life, yeah.<em>

_-Scary Song _by_ Wednesday 13_

* * *

><p><em>"What he'll have is one hell of a hang-over tomorrow," Koko said. He turned to Mikan. "I'll just drop you off and come back later."<em>

_"No," Mikan countered. "He's pretty sick. Just point me to the closest bus stop. I'll get home myself."_

_"Nonsense!" Koko chimed. "A man doesn't leave his lady stranded. Come on," he tugged Mikan's hand. Laughing, she let herself get pulled outside. Squealing as she tripped and landed on him, Mikan tried to scramble to her feet. Koko was laughing now too. "A real man also doesn't let his girl trip," he said and cheekily stuck a leg out. Mikan flopped over his foot and fell once more. "Ass," she grumbled good naturedly._

_"Koko." The voice couldn't have been colder if it had been made of snow. "I see you're back."_

* * *

><p>She turned around, getting up with the help of Koko's hand. It was that pompous prick himself, Hyuuga Natsume. "You have eyes," she offered saucily, stepping close to Koko. "You don't have to make a point of specifying it when you're using them."<p>

Those red eyes were burning furiously as he stepped into the hall from behind the other door, which she surmised quickly had to be his flat. "Where's Ruka?" he asked in a flat tone. She noted he had changed out of his suit and was wearing a simple black shirt and jeans. The way he was glowering at them made her rethink her earlier feelings. She'd dislike him for all eternity.

"He's dead to the world," Koko announced. "He's drunk."

Hyuuga frowned. "Don't let him sleep. Get him awake and make him throw it up. Was it the Imai woman?"

Koko nodded. "Fortunately yes. I can't do that sorry, I need to go drop Mikan off. I'll come back and-"

"No." Hyuuga flicked out a phone and began messaging someone. Her eyebrows rose up at the flat out refusal. "Do it now, give him some aspirin too. I'm going out now, I can drop your... friend off."

She bristled. That had been a very insulting pause.

"Um, okay." Koko raised his hands and mouthed a sorry at Mikan. "I should do as he says," he added apologetically. "Ruka didn't look so good. Seeya." Turning and blowing a kiss at her, he walked away. "I'll call you,' he promised, impish smile glowing. "Don't dump her midway Natsu!"

Hyuuga's glare intensified. "Are you coming?"

She had no other choice. "Alright." She watched Koko walk off sorrowfully.

Cue silent elevator ride.

Outside she blinked. When he'd said drop off, she had though travel, vehicle, car, not speeding, death-trap, motorbike.

For that was what, the valet was wheeling out. A huge intimidating machine. A scary looking machine. Did she have to go near it to get on?

"Maybe I should take the bus," she said quickly.

"What, scared?" he sneered as he swung one leg over its body. "Then again, I guess you are all bark and no bite." Dislike glittered clear in his eyes.

She raised her head proudly. "I was trying not to impose on you."

He smirked. "Start walking then."

"I assume you'll tell me the way to the bus-stop?"

"Not a chance."

She bit back all the insults that rose to her lips and instead eyed the bike dubiously. Fine. She'd ride it. She was wearing a dress. Was she supposed to straddle it in a dress?

"Climb on," he ordered irritably. "You're wasting time."

It didn't matter that he looked delicious enough to eat. She would have thrown him under the wheels of a truck without second thought. Bastard.

Talking her courage in her hands, she carefully lifted one leg and swung it over the seat. Bunching up her dress beneath her thighs so it wouldnt fly in the wind, she tucked it down firmly, hoping it wouldn't come loose.

"You should probably hold on."

"I'm not- WHOA!"

He'd revved it up and peeled out the entrance gates, tires squealing straigh into traffic. Dear God I don't want to die, Mikan prayed, taking his advice and holding on as tightly as her dignity and she dared. Vehicles whoosed past at alarming speeds. "Slow down!" she shouted. "Are you trying to kill yourself and me?"

There was no answer, only the wind rushing in her ears as he sverwed around cars at break-neck speeds and the loud pounding of her heart in her throat. He's a maniac, she though, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the flexing of his muscles beneath her hands. A maniac with an impressive sixpack.

Blushing at the errant thought, she rested her head on his back, focusing on avoiding the biting wind whipping her hair into her eyes.

She let her fingers curl in the material of his shirt, wondering just how she had got herself in this situation. This night she had been catapulted into a place she didn't know, where she found it hard to be comfortable. And the inherently antagonistic attitude he adopted with her didn't help one bit.

A thought came to her unbidden and she froze. No, It couldn't possibly be. Had she? No, she hadn't then how...

Swallowing past the knot of fear, she clenched her fists tighter in the material of his shirt. Wait and see, she cautioned. It could just be nothing except you building up to something that doesn't even exist. Just see...

Ten nerve wracking minutes later, he had come to a stop outside her father's studio.

_Just see..._

Mikan practically leaped off the bike, running up the steps and wrenching at the doorknob. Cursing when she realized she'd left her keys under the welcome mat and would have to bend down to retrieve it, she whirled around quickly to search for-

He was right behind her. She sucked in a quick breath and tried to duck away but his hands shot out trapping her against the wall on both sides. "I didn't think you'd notice," he said conversationally. "Then again, my first impression of you was of a gold digging bitch with a smart mouth and an empty head. I guess I was wrong."

She shivered. "I didn't tell you the way home," she accused, eyes bright with fear. "And that really was a gun down your pants! How did you-"

He laughed and the sound of it was mocking. "Oh, it's my business," he echoed Hotaru's earlier words. "Now just think. You're trapped here, vulnerable. Nothing to use as a weapon. Your key is too far away for you to reach with my interferance." His eyes were hooded, his mouth curled in an ugly smile. "I could do anything I wanted to you." His knee pushed roughly between her legs to force his point home. The butt of the gun pressed against her stomach and the contact forced tendrils of panic to quiver and curl hotly in her gut.

"I'll scream," she warned breathlessly, "I'll _scream_ and-"

A warm palm was pressed hard against her mouth. "Go ahead," he invited dangerously. "_Try_."

Her eyes shot left and right. The studio wasn't on the road, there was a small drive leading up to it. It was more like a house that had been converted to suit her father's requirements. Her neighbours were a pair in their seventies, the both of them, and a family who always turned in at ten like clockwork on the other side. No one would hear any struggle. It was past eleven now. Hopeless. She was well and truly caught. Tears welled up.

"But," her captor said consideringly. "I'm not exactly an exhibitionist. Fortunately for you, you won't get raped on your doorstep more's the pity." Hot eyes raked over her. "I'm afraid we'll have to move this elsewhere." She gave a gasp as his hand left her mouth. Ready to scream, however hopeless it might have been and too late to stop, she inhaled the noxious fumes of the cloth he pressed to her nose. Her vision wavered. Oh god, she though despairingly. Oh no no no...

A choice that had determined whether she lived or died.

_No..._

.:O:.:O:.:O:.

**(I should leave it here mawahahaha. It would be such an awesome cliffie. But I'm not that sadistic. So... :)**

Mikan woke up, eyes squinting at the sudden onslaught of bright light. The events of the last night were a blur. Had she gone to the party as she'd intended? Sitting up and brushing her hair away from her face sleepily, she threw off the blanket covering her. It landed on the floor beside the sofa,

Wait. Sofa?

And then everything came rushing back to her and speechlessly she turned to look at the person who sat opposite to her in her father's favourite arm chair, reading a book and sipping his drink from her old and chipped Sponge-bob cup. Her legs didn't obey her brain's panicky slurred insructions to run so she settled for curling into a little ball in order to present as small a target as possible. And maybe wishing she were wearing something resembling a tank.

"What the hell?" She said inelegantly, speech hoarse and stiff. She felt like she'd been riding a horse non stop and had finally been thrown by it. Everything ached. Massively.

But the thing she couldn't fathom was why in the name of every single diet ever Hyuuga was sitting there in her dad's favourite arm chair, reading some goddarn book and sipping from HER FAVOURITE CUP?

Hyuuga put down his cup and steepled his fingers. "I'm impressed. You didn't stay under for very long."

Stay under?

Stay under?

Like what? Under the sofa... under the porch steps... under the wheels of his monster machine...under... under chloroform which didn't smell as sweet as it should...

Mikan was feeling very lethargic and stuffy so her contender for best response was an incoherent 'huh?'

"Your security is very lax,' he continued in a bored tone. "Key under the mat, please. I even deactivated the alarm systems for your father's paintings. And you, you were the easist of all."

"How did you know they are his? And more importantly, what the hell did you do to me last night?" she demanded weakly, her head finally beginning to clear. She subtly groped for anything to use as a weapon. Even the cushion would help to impede him if she thew it at his face.

"Your 'last' night was only two hours ago. And don't worry. I didn't do anything." His eyes did their slow perusal thing again, leaving her breathless and squirming. Not fair! She had to be atracted to her would be rapist? "Not that I would have. You're not really my type."

She burned. She burnt. In a low voice, she said, "Get out." Of all the nerve! She wanted him out of her sight. She also, incidentally, wanted to check if what he'd said was true and he hadn't done anything. There would be marks, fingerprints, wouldn't they, if he was lying? She did not want it to be true! And besides, it really wasn't safe to have someone who'd knocked you unconscious with chloroform in your house sitting next to you and drinking tea from your favourite cup was it and being god dammed bloody nonchalant about the whole thing like it was an everyday lemme-borrow-a-cup-of-sugar deal was it? And she was not fat!

Her fist considered meeting with his face.

"Maybe I should explain," he said. With a straight face, he slid a card across the coffee-table between them. "I work part time for Hotaru Imai. She asked me to look into your case."

* * *

><p><strong>An: And that's all you get. Hehe. Did you expect that? No? Yes? **

**Review and let me know. Okay. Review game has changed its rules. The person who guesses the mistake I made in the last chapter, (one before the omake) gets the next omake. It's a very subtle mistake and not in spelling or grammer, but in something Mikan did, or rather didn't do.**

**Figure it out. If no one does, well the first reviewer of the seventh chapter will get the next omake. Oh and, I don't know what the song Scary Song (soooo original, what?) sounds like. I just found saw its lyrics when searching for haunting music and thought, woah, that suits this chapter, right. Doesn't it? Doesn't it? :D**

**Muse: Well done, pet.**

**Clarinda: I am NOT your pet.**

**Muse: Do you want me to keep giving you inspiration for this story?**

**Clarinda:... Bow..bow wow...**

**Muse: *smirk* I thought so too **

**Adieu, all yours,**

**Clarinda**


	7. The Truth Is Not Your Friend

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER SIX

**_The Truth is Not Your Friend_**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

I want to take a moment here to thank all those who have reviewed up to know. It means a lot. It gives me inspiration when my muse is off somewhere not in my brain in a land called writer's block. Seriously, the love you give me keeps me going!

Here are my precious people

**Spica14, Le ME, KoalasObviously, Kuroichibineko, Tumhare Dost, Raven Lee, Xyrhyn, 96bittersweetblackcat, Issa, Love Crazed Moron, Reader, Googooberries, loretta lynn, ilovefun, 12star98na, sapphireangel09, TheSincerestSin, OrangeBunny **and** Kiki.**

**I'd just like to make a mention that Tumhare Dost and Kiki are friends in real life and the first time I met T.D, we were like cats who hated each other. Then one day, magically, boom! best of friends and still going strong. Here's love for reviewing, crazy girl. 3**

* * *

><p><em>When she was just a girl<em>

_She expected the world _

_But it flew away from her reach so_

_She ran away in her sleep_

_And dreamed of_

_Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise_

_Every time she closed her eyes_

_-Paradise _by_ ColdPlay_

* * *

><p><em>It really wasn't safe to have someone who'd knocked you out with chloroform in your house sitting next to you and drinking tea from your favourite cup was it, and being nonchalant about the whole thing -like it was an everyday lemme-borrow-a-cup-of-sugar deal- was it? And she was not fat!<em>

_Her fist considered meeting with his face._

_"Maybe I should explain," he said. With a straight face, he slid a card across the coffee-table between them. "I work part time for Hotaru Imai. She asked me to look into your case."_

* * *

><p>The card had his name and a number. Nothing else.<p>

"Huh?" That _still_ wasn't winning any prizes.

He sighed testily. "I don't have all day, polkadots."

"Polka-? You pervert! You- you did! You looked at my underwear!" She sprang up, holding the cushion in front of her protectively. "You, you said you didn't-" She gaped like a fish, completely unable to finish her sentence.

"I didn't," he said dryly. "But you presented with quite a view when you fell over Yome."

She clamped her mouth shut. "Fine," she said mutinously. "And your explanation for your actions yesterday?"

What is this," he sounded irritated, "twenty questions? Listen, when you tell someone you don't think your dad died of natural causes, that he was **_murdered_** and had no enemies to speak of, you don't think you should take some more safety precautions?

"It's clear they wanted something. His pockets were rifled and wallet missing. That could have been chalked up to a normal robbery except for the fact that he was murdered with something not normally available to the low class scum who do these things. Someone got a bit too arrogant, letting that happen. And you didn't think they weren't going to try his home next, or _you_?"

She reddened under his scrutiny.

"I didn-"

"That's right you didn't think." He snorted. "_Clearly_, in that case I wouldn't have found it so easy to take advantage of you. My first impression seems to have been spot on."

Her mouth flattened into a thin line. He didn't have to put it that way did he? She threw the cushion at him. He caught it instead of it hitting him in the face as she'd meant, to give her some much needed satisfaction. The heat on her cheeks rose. He grinned at her infuriated look.

"You really shouldn't,**_ polka_**."

She threw her hands up. "Stop with that dumb name already!"

He shrugged. "Suits you. Now, I really do have to go meet someone so I'll be off. I'll see you..." He looked at his watch, a big clunky thing with a lot of dials. "At seven today morning. Get some sleep."

She looked away. "What am I, a kid?" she muttered childishly. "Go away already."

He got up. "Thanks for the drink, by the way."

She gnashed her teeth. Her cup and her drink and his evil mouth on both. "Go. Away."

Somehow, her irritation seemed to make him even more amused. "Going. Expect me soon."

He walked by her, smirking at her glare and let himself out. It was dark and belatedly checking the clock, she saw it was one thirty in the morning. Outside, she heard his bike starting up and then the familiar squeal of tires fading away. Thank God! He was gone.

She made an undignified dash to the bathroom.

It was as she had feared. Pink kinckers with white polkadots.

Cursing her bad luck, she leaned against the mirror. Oh well, she though gloomily, at least he didn't turn out to be a serial rapist killer.

Going back to the living room, she spotted her keys lying on the chair he had recently vacated. Curiously, she picked them up, locked the door and made her way upstairs. Her father's painting studio took up the entire first floor. One side of the wall was plain glass to let the sun in. Shutters were mechanized to cover the entire stretch at the click of a button.

It was a vast wide space with only easels and paint materials lying about to break the monotony. Half completed work lay propped up carefully here and there. The only furniture was a large comfortable couch pushed to the side.

Everything was white. Even the shutters. One wall was painted over with several colours here and there, mismatched sea-greens and crimson splashed uncaringly together, blues and burgundies and all the shades between weaving in and out. It had been her father's proudly dubbed 'mixing wall' which he used to preview colours he intended to work with. She made her way to the side show cases where some of her father's paintings lay behind clear glass.

Damn! She stared in consternation. The alarm was disabled. It was blinking green. How had he-? What was he? A master thief or something? The system wasn't at the level of Hotaru's work, but it was high tech all the same and she let indignation take front seat. Ugh.

She hated him. It was so official.

Grumbling, she primed the alarm once more, closed the shutters and made her way downstairs. Yawning and realizing she really was quite tired, Mikan headed for the kitchen. She really hadn't eaten anything at the party and her stomach was protesting now. Remembering the way Sumire had polished off those little fritter things made her stomach grumble loudly. There were some leftover sandwiches in the fridge so she set it in the microwave to warm and then had a small dinner.

Changing into a nightdress a while later in her bedroom, Mikan wondered exactly what the devil Hotaru had done by assigning _him_ to her case. They would really get along well, she though gloomily. Hyuuga was such a genial personality that it was really impossible to find fault with him. Not.

Slipping under the covers, she reached over and turned the light off. Immediately all around her glow in the dark stickers jumped to life. Stars, planets, you name it, she had it glowing on her walls.

Wistfully, she remembered the day she and her father had put them up. There was a bone deep weariness inside her that surrounded the emptiness of her father's absence. It was as if the soul, the life, had gone out of the house. Mikan sighed.

She drifted off with the conviction that soon she would be really be doing something toward finding out exactly why he had been murdered.

"Wake up, polka."

"Mnnn..."

"This is quite amusing and I have quite the temptation to take pictures but I need you to get up now."

"...Nggh...go 'way... five more..."

"Five more minutes? Oh alright polka. I guess I'll just have to go through your underwear drawer and find you a few more nicknames while you enjoy those five minutes."

She shot upright. The words polka and underwear clicked together in a flash. "Hyuuga!" She growled in annoyance. "Go find your own bed."

Ok so maybe she wasn't quite awake. Where the hell had that come from. "I mean," she amended hastily, "go bother someone else. I'm awake, I am."

He was sitting on the edge of her bed and his eyebrow quirked. "Sure about that?"

She glared. "I get that you broke into my house AGAIN and that you've decided to make teasing me about underwear the highlight of your pathetic life."

He shrugged, immune to Mikan's eyes drilling a hole through him. "You didn't answer the door."

"I was sleeping!"

"I told you I'd be here at seven."

She crossed her arms. "I'm sorry but I didn't set an alarm due to the shock I suffered last night."

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He seemed to do the let-the-eyebrow-talk-thing a lot. "Wuss. Every working girl should be proficient in at least one form of martial arts and carry pepper spray in her purse. And not keep her keys under her doormat."

Forgetting to be annoyed and a bit amused, Mikan repeated, "Pepper spray?"

"It does the trick, you know." He looked away ruefully. "Now I think I've let you sleep long enough. It's eight thirty. I'll give you twenty minutes to change and meet me in the drawing room."

He left, leaving her open mouthed. He'd let her sleep for an extra hour and half? Suddenly suspicious she wondered exactly what he had been doing during that time.

Jumping up and out of bed, she wrenched open the chest of drawers where she kept her clothes. Nothing was out of place. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned around to see him smirking in the doorway. "Oh shut up," she snapped full of indignation.

"I didn't say a word." He turned and sent her a wave over his shoulder. "In fifteen, Polka."

In a record ten minutes, she'd changed into an old sweatshirt and leggings, brushing her hair into a messy topknot and holding it there with a number of mismatched hair pins. She refused to admit to herslef that she was purposely dressing down because of a cetain someone. He was from the richest background possible and oh fine, she would say it, she would get certain satisfaction from downplaying herself lile this. He must be used to glittering beauties. What would he say to the pauper who never became a princess? And who had absolutely no interest in looking like a beauty for the prince?

In hindsight, she shold have known that he was more unpredictable than the storms that hit Japan so continuously.

"Why are you in my kitchen?"

"I'm hungry."

"Why are you in my kitchen?"

"There's food here. You can deduct this from Imai's tab. Make a list, Scrooge."

She coloured hotly. "I never said that-" she began then stopped. "Oh hell, whatever." Going to the island in the middle, she sat down and eyed him pensively. Never in her wild imagination, and she certainly had a wild one, would she have ever imagined him cooking. Granted he was only pouring cereal into cartons and adding a bunch of chopped fruits to it but she would have supposed he had servants to do even thatsort of thing. And eating cereal? Please. She was actually amazed that he knew how to open cupboards. She noticed he'd taken her favourite brand out from there.

"Never pegged you as the chocolate type."

He gave her an unreadable glance. "Oh, I like strawberry too."

She frowned. She didn't get that, whatever hidden message he was sending. "I thought you hated me."

He brought over two full bowls and set them down, taking a set opposite her. "At first." He said after scooping a huge spoon of stars and planets into his mouth and chewing slowly. "Now I'm not sure I like you now but I don't actively dislike you. That's something, hmm?"

She glared.

"But you did?" Mikan tried to remain focused on the conversation and not the movement of his mouth or Adam's apple as he ate. Could eating be considered a form of art? He was not supposed to chew like some Greek God trying to see whether food-sex was possible. She hated him.

He gave her an exasperated look and stopped eating. "What is it with you and the unnecessary questions? I need to eat, woman."

"Just answer me, Hyuuga."

He stabbed his spoon into his cereal. "When I though you were Yome's blowby, I did. A bunch of money-grabbers, the lot of them." He looked up at her. "Imai and a bit of research cleared that idea from my head."

"Imai...?"

A small unwilling smile tugged at his lips. "She could hack the president's mail if she wanted to. I never doubt her results."

Mikan sat back on her stool, ponding the ramifications of what he'd said. "So if I know proper, you're her employee, right? So what's your speciality?"

He took a casual swallow of the milk. "Breaking and entering. Grand theft auto. Larceny. Arson, wilful damage to property-"

"Oh-" Okaaaay. That was enlightening. And not something she wanted to know, not that she thought about it.

He took another swallow, mindful not to spill any on her table even though he didn't break eye contact. "You don't want me to continue?"

"Maybe not," she said quickly.

"What _is_ your opinion of me now that I'm not classified under gold digging bitch with a smart mouth and empty head?" she asked a moment later, humour touching her tone.

He took a moment to consider her question, surprise filtering through his eyes before it was quickly hidden. "Gold digger and empty head are off the list," he answered smoothly. "But smart mouth stays on."

She chucked cereal at him. "You must be a hit with the girls."

He smiled. "Oh, I am." It was said with quiet confidence.

She stuck her tongue out and sarcastically mimed swooning. "I don't think any girl was ever just 'friends' with you."

He shrugged. "After Imai, who wasn't even on the list because at that time she was Ruka's girlfriend and now I think is asexual,"- he ducked another bit of soaking cereal- "you'd be the first person to not offer me your-" he paused, "number." He concluded with a straight face.

"You think I won't jump on you?" Mikan asked, astonished. She'd thought play boy like, he'd expect her to fall for him too.

"After yesterday's little display of your 'claws', and the fact that you took the trouble to rig yourself up in that outfit for my viewing pleasure," he waved a spoon at her dress, "I don't think I'm in any danger of being jumped." He raised an eyebrow and looked smug, reminding her just why she hated him. "You seriously don't like me, do you, Polka?"

Mikan felt disheartened that he had seen through her elaborate ploy. "Hmm."

"Of course." Another eyebrow raise, "that doesn't mean you aren't affected by my dashing good looks and charisma." The arrogant tilt was back to his head. He smirked at her. With a flutter of her heart, Mikan thought that he really was too good looking. But his attitude was horrible and she preferred sweet cute guys who drove CARS and didn't INSULT girls and knocked on the door instead of BREAKING AND ENTERING(!).

She brightened. "You wish," she challenged, breaking into a huge laugh and grinning to herself about how she'd show him up.

Natsume took another spoonful of the chocolate Planets and Stars and chewed silently.

"I need to show you something about your father's death."

And just like that, her heart plummeted.

* * *

><p><strong>An**:** Next chapter I'm going to make some serious stuff up about ballistics so if any cop is reading this, or any tech, I ask you to please in advance, forgive my imagination and general laziness to find out stuff. Hehe. Now if that isn't a good enough hint for the next chappie I don't know what is.**

**Btw, I just got admission into college and I'm going to the hostel tomorrow and omg, it is really really scary and really really exciting- wait, no, it's all scary! :O**

**Also, I know this is a lot to ask, but do any of my readers draw well? I would love for this story to have an Image Cover. If you could help out, that would be way awesome!**

Read and Review!

Clarinda


	8. Memory Burns The Heart

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER SEVEN

**_Memory Burns The Heart  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

Note: Hello people! Yes, :3 I'm back. Things were hectic and stuff recently. Law school is SO NOT a piece of cake. I still have pending submissions but I threw it all aside, sneaked out at twelve in the night to the internet center and did me some breaking, entering and hacking till I got my stuff back. :D Okay so I'm kidding about the last part. But can you seriously believe they tried to block porno sites and ended up blocking anything with sensitive content. *cough* no offense torrent sites, you just have some weird adverts.

Onto the story!

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><p><em>Tonight the sunset means so much<em>

_The one thing that you know you'll never touch_

_Like the feeling, the real thing_

_Gotta reach out for the sweet dream_

_But somehow the darkness wakes me up_

_Well I've felt this emptiness before_

_But all the times that I've been broken_

_I still run right back for more_

_ -Learn My Lesson _by_ Daughtry  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>With a flutter of her heart, Mikan thought that he really was too good looking. But his attitude was horrible and she preferred sweet cute guys who drove CARS and didn't INSULT girls, and knocked on the door instead of BREAKING AND ENTERING(!).<em>

_She brightened. "You wish," she challenged, breaking into a huge laugh and grinning to herself about how she'd show him up._

_Natsume took another spoonful of the chocolate Planets and Stars and chewed silently._

_"I need to show you something about your father's death."_

_And just like that, her heart plummeted._

* * *

><p>"Now, onto specifics."<p>

They were in the living room and Hyuuga, well, Natsume, though it felt weird to call him that, had taken out this enchanting little notebook which the brooding handsome private investigator used like in all those mystery detective novels. Only, this was a notebook, as in laptop notebook which unsurprisingly looked like a million bucks.

And then he'd started it up, and proceeded to open some kind of timeline thing. She'd noticed it already had scanned newspaper articles regarding her father and those others pasted here and there like little post-its. "I need you to give me a little background about your father."

"How does that help?" she hesitated. She wanted to tell him, really, but it would bring up so many memories- and she didn't think she wanted to go back to that place. What purpose could it possibly serve?

"I need every little detail. No matter how small, it's all important. It could give us the one hint we may need to find your father's killer. Now," he prompted her, eyes dark and oblique, not demanding, but at the same time expectant.

She sat back on the sofa and hugged a cushion to herself. Well, didn't Hyuuga know how to be persuasive. "Well... he was born in a little fishing village off the coast of Fuji. His family were all really poor. Then one day, he decided he wanted to really follow his dreams and paint so he left for Tokyo. But he didn't get where he wanted to, although he did make good money. So he immigrated and settled down here when he was thirty."

She continued pensively. "I was twelve. He had met my mom in Japan.I really don't know much about her. All I know is that her name was Yuka and she died soon after giving birth to me. My dad's the one who brought me up, mother, father and friend." There was a catch in her voice when she continued, bleak heartbreak written across her face.

Natsume watched her silently, occasionally making notes.

"He painted here and there, and we had just enough money to keep the tax collectors away from our door. This might seem like a sob story to you but there was nothing I enjoyed more than my childhood. He taught me all I know of painting. I am what I am because of him. As I grew up, he became better known and gained a good reputation."

She waved a hand around. "That's how he bought this place. He settled most of his money on it after saving up. Then, around two months ago, he did a painting for the Nishidas. They saw some of his work at some big restaurant which had bought one of his pictures and they offered him a lot of money to paint something for them. I don't really know much more. He kept it really hush-hush. And then, the day he died, he called me just five minutes before he... he said that he'd got a call from them and they wanted a second painting and it would turn our boat around. He sounded happy but also a bit weird- strained, I guess. And then next thing I know this officer turns up on my front door saying I need to go identify a body found in Round Park." She smiled bitterly. "He always hated that place."

Natsume slowly put aside the notebook. "You think the Nishidas were involved?"

She made a helpless gesture. "I don't know. I really don't."

His eyes were dark. "That's some big name calling and you know it. If it turns out they were somehow involved, you're in the biggest danger possible."

"Why do you say that?"

He leaned back and crossed his legs. "How much do you know about them?" His face gave away nothing. He idly flicked at a loose thread next to his thigh as he waited for her to reply.

"Next to nothing. I told you." She frowned at him, not knowing where he was going with it.

"Let me fill in the blanks for you then. The Nishidas came over to America ten years ago. Takeshi Nishida had everything. Big money, big contacts. And so, naturally, big power. Something that not many know though, is that nearly all organized crime in Manhattan is run by him. He has businesses on the right side of the law as well to to make him seem respectable, but most of the money he makes comes from shady underworld dealings. You've got to be careful here. He rules this roost. One wrong step and there's _nothing_ that could help you if he decides he wants to get rid of you. It's a very real danger." He had leaned forward as he said this and his face was dark and grim.

Mikan sat there, shaken.

"Then again," he set the notebook back on his lap. "There's no concrete evidence so it might not have been them either. Let's hope so."

"Mmmn," Mikan agreed silently. But that feeling in her gut didn't go away. Something- she was missing something here.

Natsume turned the laptop so she could see. "You see this?" He pressed a few keys and an enlarged view of a blunt nosed bullet came into view. "One of our technicians in the police force gave me these images. This bullet seems normal, to that policeman investigating your dad's case it is, since our tech substitued another bullet. We've been following this case for a while."

"Yes," he said at her questioning, surprised look. "You father's not the only one. You're right. And Imai had her fingers in this pie well before you came along." He pressed a finger to the screen and dragged it along the illuminant surface. The bullet on screen revolved slowly.

"This is a VLD bullet- stands for very low drag. It's used by snipers and long range gunners. You can see the thin groove-lines called riding bands near the bottom, and that hollow part right there. These bullets can be used in most rifles but they were specifically made for a certain type of rifle. The T-324 to be exact. I won't bore you with more details but its bullet heel is specially fitted for one kind of weapon. Wercharof Rifles."

Natsume looked grim as he glanced over at Mikan's paling face.

"And that's the signature of a Russian arms dealer we have dubious information on. He only supplies to the biggest names at the most outrageous prices, but he does give quality products which his ego apparently demands he make a mark on. His name is Nikolai Vasilivich. His container ship, which to all and sundry carries only furniture, and fittings recently docked here. And within the spate of a few weeks, four people including your dad are dead, and all with these same bullets. Someone rich and powerful wanted them out of the way and got it done. The question now is who and why."

"So he was murdered?"

"No doubt about it." Natsume was dead serious. He pulled the thread free and tossed it away. She stared at where it lay, a thin white strand lost in the beige sea of lush carpeting.

"So what do I do now?"

"You? You stay put. Attract as little attention as possible, which shouldn't be too hard." He smirked but quickly grew sober. "You've given us the case and we'll deal with it now. Just expect a large bill to wind up at your doorstep in time." He was trying to relieve the tension, Mikan realized. In his gruff, utterly insensitive crass manner.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"What?" His voice had a dangerous inflex. She tried not to look at him. She would back down if she looked up at him now. She would give in.

"I'm not going to sit back and relax while you get to do the heavy work. I want to be a part of this too. I want to do something."

"You can't."

"I can."

"You can't."

"I will."

"Saku-"

"I want to, ok!" She bit her lip and met his annoyed gaze.

"It'll be dangerous." His mouth thinned, brooking no refusal. "No."

"Yes," she said undaunted. "Or I'll cancel and do all the investigative stuff myself."

"You wouldn't." He actually stood up, towering over her, using his height to intimidate her.

"I would." She raised her chin.

"You'd only get yourself killed," he snapped."Don't be stupid, Sakura. Stop acting like an immature little brat and try to understand this- that you'll only be in the way!"

"No I won't!" She'd tried so hard not to but her vision had become blurry. "He was my dad! I want to be the one to get him justice. I don't want to sit around waiting for you to tell me someone's behind bars. I don't want to while away all my time just, just- I... want -hic-" Her face crumpled. Her shoulders shook. Mikan bit her lip as it wobbled. Dammit, she hadn't meant to start the waterworks. Especially not in front of him. But just thinking about her dad made her feel so utterly useless. Maybe if only she'd told him to hurry back that day. Maybe that dinner couldn't wait. That he should take some rest and come home early. Maybe he would have still been alive.

Natsume sighed.

Mikan suddenly found a large red plaid kerchief thrust in her face. "Don't you dare cry, Polka."

She wiped her eyes. "I'm not crying!" She muttered. I was just-" Her eyes teared up again, and she ignored it resolutely, blinking profusely.

She sat there, shoulders shaking, and occasionally drawing in huge gulps of air.

He muttered a few expletives under his breath.

"Fine."

She stopped sniffling at once. "Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll keep you informed. But you listen to whatever I say and do what ever I tell you to. Understand? This isn't some cheesy spy novel. You get shot," his face went hard and bleak, "you die. Understand?"

She nodded hastily, wiping at her face and smiling wanly up at him.

"Good. I need to go. I work for Imai part-time only, so you can't always reach me through her." He smiled wryly. "If you need me, call this number. I'll get back to you as fast as possible." He stood up, reaching a hand out to her.

She took the offered white card. "Where do you work otherwise?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her."

"Hyuuga Inc. You might know of it."

She blinked dazedly. Know of it? Who didn't know of the company that manufactured some of the most gorgeous and well performing motorbikes ever?

"Job description?"

He smiled slightly. "Adviser to the company head. My uncle, by the way."

He left, leaving her a lot more dazed than ever. And still clutching his handkerchief. She took a cautious sniff, imagining how stalker like it seemed.

Something nice and spicy. Not too ever the top. Understated, elegant. Just like a Riesland painting. She'd always been a sucker for those.

"Aw hell," she muttered, swiping at her eyes. "I hate him. I detest him. His eyebrows are so sexy. Why?" she whined despairingly, burying her nose in red.

But after a while, she did have to relinquish the fabric and move on.

Thankfully, it was Sunday so she had nothing much planned except some lazy sketching and people watching. She also worked part time at a maid cafe. It was a pity that there anything in a skirt above the knees was considered fair game. She sighed. Her shift was from two to six so she had while before she needed to venture out. Maybe she would just sleep some more. A lot more. It sounded so good.

The door bell rang.

She imagined the shrill screeching to be the sound of her dreams dying. At least they rang, instead of breaking in, she thought morosely.

Getting up slowly, she dragged her feet toward the door. "Coming," she called out. A small interval and then one very surprised Mikan was staring at a very impeccably dressed and poker-faced Takeshi Nishida.

"Oh."

He inclined his head. "Good to see you, Miss. Sakura."

She cocked her head. Why was he here? "Please, come in," she said, mentally running through the last images of the house and deciding it didn't look too bad for him to see. She held the door open wide.

He hesitated. "Thank you," he said after a pause. He followed her inside.

Mikan waved him toward the sofa. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Nishida?"

He shook his head. "No thank you. I am pressed for time." He continued standing. "I would like to know your decision."

That was it then. She still had to tell him him whether she would consider being his protegee. Normally she'd kick anyone's ass who dared call her that but this particular ass was clothed in a very fine, very expensive pair of pants which she'd recently heard from Natsume had been bought by blood money. So no was out of the question. Also this would help her get closer to him, his family, and give her excuses to be places where she shouldn't be, like his home, hanging out with his children, meeting his friends. In short, it would help her find out whether he really was her father's killer.

The eyes never lied. His eyes were all wrong. She didn't trust him.

"Alright." Mikan bowed. "I accept."

* * *

><p>Three days passed. It was Wednesday.<p>

Natsume still hadn't called.

She was getting sick of waiting.

If he had any leads, he should share them with her. She'd never been a fan of the 'on need to know basis' thing. She wanted to know everything, dammit. Nishida had payed up like he'd promised and she'd been able to buy the supplies she so desperately needed. She was running low on money; a waitressing job and sketches here and there were enough to cover the costs of living o an extent but not put her through college. Now that those worries were dealt with, she had nothing to occupy her mind with except the case, and therefore Natsume and his apparent inability to use a cellphone.

It wasn't as if she wanted to her from him just for the sake of hearing from him.

Please.

She had more dignity that that.

He had insulted her to her face, rifled through her underwear drawers, (she was so sure of that one even if she didn't have any proof), pretty much tried to intimidate her with his piss poor imitation of a serial rapist (hah, she was just pretending to be scared), eaten all her favorite cereal and then broken into her house god knows how, twice!

But he had the most sexy eyebrows.

And cheekbones.

And eyes.

And she was a completely pathetic fool who kept lying to herself.

Yea, not even going there.

Okay, so maybe he looked great. Like yummy great.

His personality not so much. So really, there was no reason why she should want to hear from him. Except to get more news on her father's case. There was no reason why he should call her either. Was there? So she should just-

It was not like he liked her much anyway, outside of that weird name calling business. He probably did it to every girl he met.

There was a pause as her brain conjured up visions of Natsume in a business suit striding into a lobby and calling out to all the women as he passed by, '"Hey there, Lace! Looking good, cotton! Whoa, grannies, don't run like that! And good morning to you too, strawberries!"'

She stifled a giggle.

She had strawberry panties.

Her face turned puce.

"Oh, I like strawberries too."

Purple.

He had gone through her-

Red.

He had seen her-

"WHY THAT ROTTEN SON OF A-"

* * *

><p><strong>An: Well I'm back and with a vengeance. Hehehe. You will not believe what I have planned for these people. The long time spent a hermit has been fruitful. I am all-omniscient!**

**Muse: up. Just shut up and let these people review. You're distracting them.**

**Clarinda: *"cough* so sorry. Please, do continue and review :D**

**Yours avowedly  
><strong>

**Clarinda  
><strong>


	9. Nature of Interludes

A-

* * *

><p><strong>A CRIMINAL DESIRE<strong>

CHAPTER EIGHT

**_Peaceful Interlude  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

Note: Hello people! Yes, :3 I'm back. Again.

Don't hate me! I really really have been busy! Its so sad I'm so busy that I'm back now because I'm laid up with a nasty ankle sprain. Oh well. I have free time now and I've obsessively written a few more chapters so we're all set for a while now! Toasty warm and nice! And certain college restrictions are down so ehehe... this site is open to me again! :D Also, thanks to all those you stayed with me and are reading this chapter now! Post a review so I know how many awesome people are still with me (although you might be slightly... cross? with me? :3 I surely hope you're here though. :D

Also, I took the time to draw a Cover for this story. I'm not very good at drawing but I did my best. Don't have a scanner either so I snapped it on my cell and uploaded it to the comp.

Onto the story!

* * *

><p><em>Love is all and love is everyone<br>It is knowing, it is knowing_

_And ignorance and hate mourn the dead_  
><em>It is believing, it is believing<em>

_But listen to the colour of your dreams_  
><em>It is not leaving, it is not leaving<em>

_So play the game "Existence" to the end_  
><em>Of the beginning, of the beginning<em>

_ -Tomorrow Never Knows _by_ Our Lady Peace  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>She stifled a giggle.<em>

_She had strawberry panties._

_Her face turned puce._

_"Oh I like strawberry too."_

_Purple._

_He had gone through her-_

_Red._

_He had seen her-_

_"THAT ROTTEN SON OF A-"_

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Kohana, !" She dipped into a pretty bow. "Would you like a seat near the windows?" She tipped her head and smiled.<p>

"Mikan!" Her head shot up. Wha-

"Mikan! It is you! Wow, what are the chances!"

She stared, uncomprehending for a moment at the faces before her, until recognition hit her like lightening. Fast as a snake striking, the memories of that night washed over her.

Oh god, it was Koko and a bunch of his super rich friends. She saw Yuu and the twins among them. "A hundred to one," she replied brightly, all the while cursing inside. There was nothing to be ashamed of, of course, but then why couldn't she stop blushing? And suddenly her costume, a short frilly black and white confection seemed a bit too much on the revealing side. She unconsciously tried to tug it lower.

Koko clasped her hand. "Well, lovely stray, you may lead us to any table served by your beautiful and graceful self." There were a lot of low sniggers at that. Mikan's lip twitched upward. Koko presented such a comical sight. It was hard not to feel amusement however much tinged with exasperation.

"Speaking of which, did you get home safely that night? Natsume didn't dump you half way through, did he?" There was a knowing glint in his eye that she found herself uncomfortably surprised by. Koko was...

"Natsume!" A long black haired girl gave Mikan a surprised glance. Mikan sighed, resigned to the snobby surprise factor by now, what ever Sumire had pledged. Sumire was after all, the exception to the rule. Mikan didn't want to mix with these alien type any more than they did with her. It wasn't important to her at all. "She's with him?"

Koko looked wounded. "'Course not, he just dropped her home from my place!" Mikan's lips twisted wryly at the new spin that put on things. Trust Koko to do it!

"Yea," Mikan added helpfully, hoping to defuse the situation. "It wasn't exactly a fun experience either. I was scared out of my mind the whole time. His bike is a monstrosity."

Koko went still. He grasped her shoulders, blue eyes peering carefully into hers. "He. Let. You. On. His. Bike?" There was something urgent and incredulous about his tone.

What was this? Was Hyuuga some sort of possessive maniac of his bike the same way some women were of the cats they owned? "Uh, yes?" Mikan deadpanned. "Super scary black thing with custom red zigzags on the side?" She cocked a head thoughtfully. "Yep, I'm pretty sure that's the one."

There was a hush.

Koko blinked. "He doesn't let anyone on that bike." There was a murmur of agreement from the others, who stared at her with looks ranging from curiosity to dawning speculation.

It was Mikan's turn to blink. That was weird. She shifted a bit, self-conscious of her dress and of the attention being bestowed on her. Two and two seemed to produce a damning four here. "Well. Whatever. He must have been in a real hurry. He just dropped me off. Didn't speak a single word to me at all, actually." She crossed her fingers behind her back. That was a complete lie but she'd be damned if she would let spill anything here, and to them.

Besides, she wasn't interested in Natsume _that way_ so there was no need to fuel any gossip.

"He was very rude," she added again, trying to add more fuel to the fire she wanted to stoke more as each second passed and the same girl from earlier kept staring at her with beady eyes. Mikan could practically feel the rays burning into her skin. "He practically kicked me off his precious bike. Anyway I'll show you to your table." She turned quickly.

"You been working here for long?" Koko asked curiously as they followed her.

Mikan threw him a quick smile over her shoulder. "After my father died, it's been a way to pay the bills." That was true, though she'd had the job before then. Belatedly, she realized she didn't want him thinking she was dirt poor and waitress-ed for a living. Although, she was kind of doing exactly that now, wasn't she? It paid well, all said and done.

Yuu adressed her next. "Didn't Nishida give you your schedule?"

"Schedule?"

"Yea, he give's them to all his protegees." The boy smiled slightly. "He gave them to me once."

"You too?"

"Was. Now I work at Linklaters."

"Oh." That was something to think about. If it were the Nishidas behind everything, she sure didn't think establishing her in society was what they had in mind if she went the way she was planning to. Directing her attention elsewhere, she paused before a round table and a long curved sofa long enough to seat six to seven people. "Please take a seat. What can I get you?" Slipping back into maid-mode was almost a relief.

"What's your special, Mikan-chan?" chirped one of the twins. Kai, she thought, eyeing him. He was slightly more vivacious of the two. And sharper, too.

"Um... today's special is strawberry shortcake and hot bagels." She cocked her head artlessly. "There's also a discount offered at ten percent for anything above twenty dollars."

"Okay then," Koko imperiously waved a hand. "We'll all have that."

"Oh, I don't know," the other twin raised a mischievous eyebrow. "I rather think I'd have something else. Mikan-chan, get me the number of that cute waitress over there who hasn't stopped eying me since I came in."

"She was eying me!" Kai countered suddenly in an outraged voice.

In a motion so well practiced it seemed to have occuRred many times before, they both swiveled toward each other and lo, and behold, a glaring contest was begun.

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was-"

"Cut it out, you two. And for the record, she isn't into men," muttered the grey haired boy coldly, who, come to think of it, she had seen at the party too. What was his name now...Yuji..Yuugi...ah, Youichi!

"How do you know that?" Koko leaned forward, entranced. "Are you gay?"He paused. "Do you have a gaydar or would you rather call it a lesdar?"

From his pained gasp it was obvious Youchi had engaged in some action beneath the table and Mikan didn't mean playing footsie.

"She is, isn't she?" Youichi addressed Mikan next irritably. That glare should be patented. After Natsume's, of course. This one wasn't as scary.

"Er... you're right," she said, wondering how he knew that and how to escape from there. "I'll just go place your orders. Anything you'd like to drink?"

"No thanks." Koko waved cheerfully.

Mikan left immediately, feeling relieved. As she ducked between other tables and behind the counter, she wiped a sheen of perspiration off her forehead.

She really didn't know how to act around them. A little time away would do her good. Alas to her consternation, she was cornered by two fellow maids in the kitchen. Damn her infernal luck.

"Spill," demanded a throaty, raspy Nina Simone voice that could belong easily to a thirty a day smoker. Mikan gazed helplessly at the short pixie-ish girl. She was dressed to the nines as a goth-lolita maid in black fringe-lace and beaded blue bows and didn't look like she would budge an inch from where she stood, blocking the way and tapping her heels impatiently.

What Alex didn't have in height, she more than made up for with a hugely bossy personality. Privately, Mikan suspected, if this were an anime, she would be very afraid. Here was Natsume's dream girl, a black belt at karate and she had an actual knife in her purse. Mikan didn't think she'd leave any keys ever under doormats either...

"Um... I..."

"Don't lie to us. We saw the cute blondie address you by name!" Elizabeth, a short freshman part timing at the cafe for fun got right up into Mikan's face.

The ruffles on her yellow and white sundress ticked Mikan's bare arms. "Who are theyyyy?" she whined, grabbing Mikan's shoulders. All the bows and frills and the blond pig-tails only served to underline the half-crazy look in her eyes which glittered with excitement. Elizabeth looked like a demented daisy. "I could practically eat them."

Alex tched. "I'd rather do other things," she murmured dryly, echoing Hiro. Ok, that was beyond wierd and very disturbing, considering she really didn't want details of the other girl's private life. Mikan rolled her eyes. "Enough,' she expostulated. "I met them at a party the other day. Nothing more to it."

Ellizabeth stepped back, looking cunning. "I have great hearing. What was that about grace and beauty? Sure didn't look to me like a casual greeting after a casual the other day nothing more to it party!" she announced triumphantly, wagging an accusing finger.

"He partnered me, that's all!" Mikan defended.

Alex raised a finger. "Partnered? What, like some high brow pole up the arse stuff?"

Mikan groaned at the phrasing. "Kind of," she said, smile twitching at her lips.

Elizabeth huffed. "Didn't know you were into that," she said as if Mikan had just expressed a dislike for burgers and fries and instead ate tofu and seaweed and did pilates sharp at eight in the mornings on weekends.

"No," Mikan said quickly. "I was invited because my dad did some paintings for them before he..." She trailed off and looked down. If this didn't do the trick-!

It worked like a charm. Never doubt the power of the sad puppy-eyes. She said a silent prayer for her dad. Elizabeth looked contrite and even Alex only gave her ususal snort and turned away.

"Anyway guys I've got their order..."

Five minutes later, she was back at the table, balancing six plates on a double block tray. She served each with a smile on her face, saying the requisite sentences and thanking them cheerfully. Cleo, another 'maid', was sitting with them.

Just as she was about to leave, on of the two girls in the group,_ not_ the long black haired who had her brows permanently fused together, called out her name.

"Mikan, wait!"

She turned around, surprised, shifting the tray beneath her arm. "Yea?"

"Um... this may sound too forward, but we're doing a cookie sale the day after tomorrow on Saturday. It's for a charity cause. Say you'll come?"

The twins stared at the girl. "Why, Masaki! That's a brilliant idea! Why didn't we think of it?" exclaimed Hiro. Kai nodded with equally bubbly enthusiasm and fixed a beaming smile on Mikan.

Mikan's head was in a whirl. "I..I don-" she began uncertainly. What should she say?

"Aw, come on," Koko begged. "You promised I could tote you around like an objet d'arte."

Mikan winced at the wierd looks the others gave them. Oh, she wished she didn't remember saying that. And that pout. Darn...

"Alright, then," she said. Her eyes didn't miss the fact that the other girl looked less than happy, a slight frown on her face as she considered Mikan. "I'll come. Where and when?"

The nice girl scribbled down an address on a napkin and gave it to Mikan. "Come around three in the evening. If you can bring some baked goods, you're more than welcome to."

"Okay," Mikan repeated, smiling faintly at the incongruity of the entire situation. She always seemed to get pulled into the most ridiculous things around them. First Ruka, and now a cookie sale. Ah well, maybe she could use it to her advantage. Maybe she could spot Natsume- No. Maybe, she could do some reconnoitering. He was the furthest thing from her mind now.

* * *

><p>That night, and the next night she got a lot of work done. Her art project was due in three weeks time and she'd already got a head start on it. She'd also finished an essay on comparison between two great masters of cubism. She should be feeling ecstatic.<p>

Yet.

No phone call.

No breaking and entering.

Where the hell was he? What was he doing?

He was in big trouble when she saw him next. He'd promised to keep her in the loop for God's sake!

Mikan's head filled with dire thoughts. Being an artist, she knew her anatomy well and so it was with relish that she imagined taking him apart and-

Yeah, her dad did say he'd never met anyone as artistically sadistic as his little girl.

... sinuses burning, time to think of something else.

She set down her sketch pen and sighed, eying her preliminary sketch as yet half done. This was her side project, just for herself. She was going by complete memory alone, refusing to look at any pictures and going completely metal in the process.

It was a sort of burden and yet, at the same time, it was the least she could do. A test of her ability. Some misplaced feeling had her thinking that it she managed to do this, she would get closure. She could lock up the memories in brush strokes and lines and paint and preserve them in canvas, in a place they couldn't hurt her.

The last time she had seem him, it had been in a police mortuary, the stench of death all around. Contorted rigid bodies surrounding her on all sides, dead things stuffed inside lockers but these weren't models, no, these were the real thing.

He was real. His death was real.

It was no use.

And she'd used his death earlier as an excuse to get away from nagging. She was so ashamed.

The tears spilled over her cheeks. Eyesight blurred. A long ragged sound left her throat. It had been a few weeks and it wasn't enough to get over the fact that he would never come home again. That he wouldn't be finishing his paintings. That he wasn't he anymore. _Dad..._

He was gone for good.

She didn't have any other relatives. Her mother's side was totally unknown and her father's village had been washed away in a flood three year after they moved to Manhattan.

She was so totally alone.

It hurt to think.

The phone rang.

Sniffling, Mikan put it to her ear. "Hello?"

A low amused voice answered. "Do you always greet people like that?"

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Like what?" she asked crossly, mood maybe improving the _tiniest_ bit.

"Like you were having a good cry with your favourite teddy Mr. Snuffles and thinking about your dad-"

She cut the phone.

It rang again almost immediately.

"What?"

"You have to get over it you know, polka? I'm going to be mentioning your dad more than a few times seeing as the case is mainly about him, that ring a bell?" Natsume's tone was nothing short of coldly sarcastic. "It would really help if you didn't act like a eleven year old and unleash the waterworks at every mention of the d-word."

"You mean dick?" she shouted angrily. "Because you are the biggest one on the planet, Hyuuga!" And she cut the phone again.

This time twenty seconds passed before it rang again. Not that she counted or anything.

"You stopped moaning, didn't you?" he pointed out. She could almost feel the smirk on his face.

"Whatever? Do you have any more info?" She totally forgot that she was supposed to be prolonging this call. He always made her feel snappy and cattish. And her fingers itch to throw something heavy in his direction.

"Would I call you if I didn't? It's not like I want to hear you mouth off all the time." Ouch. That stung.

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "It's mutual," she informed him sweetly. "I don't want to hear that irritating foghorn of yours either."

This time she did hear him chuckle. "Sure, polka. Anyway. I got a name and an address. Vasily's shipment arrived here some time ago remember? Well. A new container just docked. I'm betting it's for the same guy who did in your dad, if those other attacks and yours are connected. I have the dealer's coordinates. Maybe I can get something on this mystery figure masterminding the whole operation. We're onto something, polka. I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks and fumbling into my investigation which is why I'm not telling you either the name or the address."

Mikan closed her mouth. She had just been about to ask him for the same. Darn it!

"Why don't we compromise," she suggested. "I-"

"No way," his voice hardened. "I think I told you before that you'd have to listen to me if you want to be kept informed. So this is downright no, complete refusal. You will get nothing from me. Understand?"

"Fine," she huffed.

"Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." She perked up. "Wait. You will? Where?"

"Oh? If my sources were right," she heard him pause thoughtfully, "you're supposed to be at a baked goods sale somewhere..."

She clutched the phone tighter. "You're going to be there?" she demanded. "Who invited you?"

"Am I not always invited," he returned easily. "I'll be sure to save you a strawberry printed apron."

She flushed. "You won't do any such thing!" she warned, the implications rising to her mind.

"I thought we agreed not to judge each other based on just a few meetings." There was a slightly reproachful sound to his voice. "C'mon polka, you really don't know what I'd like.. to... do." The last few words were pitched much lower than his normal tone. She shivered in spite of herself. He's only toying with you! she reminded herself. Cotton granny panties, cotton granny panties, hello cotton granny panties!

"Goodnight," she managed in what she hoped was a firmly steady tone. Yet as she pressed the end button, she suspected she hadn't succeeded in fooling him for his answering laugh continued to echo in her ear. Smug, and knowing and still completely lethal.

* * *

><p><strong>An: Well I'm back. Again. This was ore of a filler to set up events and give some much needed breaks to my muse. Who I recently rescued from a couple of sleazy lawyerly types lurking around in my brain.  
><strong>

**Muse: Stop. No. Don't relive it. It was bad enough forgetting fanfiction. I don't want to start re-remembering what ergo and jus and partem mean!**

Clarinda: *"cough* so sorry. Please, do continue and review :D

**Yours  
><strong>

**Clarinda**


	10. Confectionary, Crumbs and Confusion

**CRIMINAL DESIRE**

_CHAPTER NINE_

**_Confectionery Crumbs and Confusion_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Note: So... my laptop got stolen. From my dorm room. The guard knows nothing, fellow dormies and the other majors don't, no one apparently saw any suspicious looking person carrying away a 16 inch laptop and a stereo speaker set. Wow.<br>_**

**_So yea... went the official route and filed complaints but in vain. Till I get a new one, I'm subsisting on this really old little Acer I owned as well. Things don't seem to be going so great for me. 70 grand down the drain is rather a lot. But hey,when life gives you lemons..._**

**_...you damn well better make lemonade!_**

_But if you close your eyes,  
>Does it almost feel like<br>Nothing changed at all?  
>And if you close your eyes,<br>Does it almost feel like  
>You've been here before?<br>How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

* * *

><p><em>She flushed. "You won't do any such thing!" she warned, the implications rising to her mind.<em>

_"I thought we agreed not to judge each other based on just a few meetings." There was a slightly reproachful sound to his voice. "C'mon polka, you really don't know what I'd like to... do." The last few words were pitched much lower than his normal tone. She shivered in spite of herself. He's only toying with you! she reminded herself. Cotton granny panties, cotton granny panties, hello cotton granny panties!_

_"Goodnight," she managed in what she hoped was a firm tone. Yet as she pressed the end button, she suspected she hadn't succeeded for his answering laugh still echoed in her ear. Smug, knowing and completely lethal._

* * *

><p>Saturday dawned bright and early. She had no classes. Mikan woke up early because no matter what, she was a morning bird and always would be. The percolator merrily humming away, she got out an old dusty cookbook from a rarely opened cupboard. Blowing away the thick layer of dust on it caused her to sneeze several times. "Jeez," she murmured, eying it sternly. "Already giving me trouble, eh?"<p>

Since Mikan worked at the cafe, she rarely made sweets or deserts, preferring to just pick up whatever was left at the end of the day from work and bringing it home. Besides, though she was a good cook, her cake and pastry skills were woefully inadequate. Fire-in-the-kitchen-run-for-your-life-call-911 inadequate.

"Hmm," she wondered aloud, tapping her nose and flipping through the book. "What to make? What to bake? Cookies? Crumpets? Scones? Biscuits? Savoury crunchies... wow, I absolutely didn't know you could do that with an ice cube tray." She stared in fascination at the page. "Um right... cookies... safest bet. Alrighty then!"

Setting the book down on the counter with a flourish, she bent over to pull open the cupboards beneath it where all her utensils were stored. Her father's will had left everything to her, so there had been not much change in her lifestyle. Rummaging through the dark space, her fingers hit the handle of the very tray she wanted to use. Pulling it out triumphantly, she set it on the table, then selected an assortment of smaller bowls and spoons which she placed along side the ingredients she gathered.

Tying her hair up with a scrunchie, Mikan turned on these items with the light of battle in her eye. "Ready or not, here I come."

This was exhausting work, she thought as she pulled the second to last batch out of the oven. There was no way she was repeating this. Ever. She looked like someone had put her through the mixer. There wwas flour all over her hair and face and streaks of margarine and cookie mix on her hands and smeared on her apron (kiss the cook, since you asked). It was enough to drive any sane person stark raving mad. How did people have the patience to bake let alone whisk an egg till it stood in frothy peaks.

She had just set the plate on the counter when nimble fingers danced across her line of sight and a cookie disappeared!

She spun around, an indignant cry on the tip of her tongue. It was gone!

"This is the third time!" she muttered, turning around and stabbing a cookie none too gently. The knife came away clean so it had to be well done. The shapes were a bit crooked but she didn't mind. "Keep your grubby paws off my cookies, buster! These are for the sale."

She picked one up and bit into it to see the taste. Her face morphed expressions. In slow motion, she turned around and looked at Natsume who was leaning against the island and still chewing manfully.

With a horrified expression on her face she dashed for the dustbin and hacked up the contents of her mouth into it, retching till she couldn't taste anymore. It was utterly humiliating and yet she found she couldn't keep it in her mouth a second longer.

"How could you-" she shook her head in amazement, staring at him. She wiped a hand across her mouth and gagged. "How did you eat that?"

He shrugged, dark eyes cautious. "It wasn't so bad."

She shook her head again. "Are you insane?" she demanded. "It's positively revolting."

A slow hint of a smile touched his lips. "True," he agreed somberly. "It was, actually, the most horrible thing I've ever eaten. Then again, when you add salt instead of sugar..."

Her head whipped about. True to his words, the powder she had mistaken for ground sugar turned out to be salt. Curse those fiendishly unlabelled packets! "Ugh, what a waste," she uttered, shoulders crooking inward and wrinkling her nose. "Of time and food both." She sat down with a sigh, wiping a dirty hand across her forehead and making it even messier than before.

Damn. Now she'd be late and she'd have nothing to show for it.

"Get dressed."

"Huh?" She cocked her head at him, lifting up her face to meet his.

He pointed at the clock. "You're going to be late if you had plans of going to a place where you've never been before with only a half hour margin for error. Get ready and I'll drop you there. Imai's waiting and she doesn't do tardy." In spite of his impersonal tone, Mikan brightened.

She planted her hands on her hips. "On your I-never-let-anyone-on-it bike?" she questioned archly.

He smirked. "Oh, so you heard about that. No, not today, more's the pity." His eyes lingered on her, bringing back memories of that fateful night he'd-

"Ok," she conceded hastily. "Fine. As long as it's not that... thing. Give me five." She walked out past him, then halted by the staircase. Turning around, she was about to ask him if he knew where the place was and who was hosting the party when she halted. A curious look passed across her face.

He had sat down at a seat and picked up a cookie. A small shadow crossed his face and then he bit into it, closing his eyes. She watched his strong jaw work, his lean throat swallowing, the way his eyes opened when he was finally done, burning sad and defeated and urgent.

"_Aoi_..." the longing whisper reached her ears.

She backed away. There were things Natsume was hiding too, things he wasn't ready to tell anyone just yet. Things it wasn't her right to know. She wasn't about to pry into something that looked so private. Not yet.

She got ready pretty fast. There were not many things she had that were meant for special outings and stuff, so she decided to chuck it all and go comfortable. After all, most of them would know what she was by now, a protegee, she mouthed silently, upstairs in her room, giggling at how dumb it sounded.

So it it didn't matter how she dressed, well, it was her long yellow calf length frock, dark brown shrug, and heels. She clasped a tiny heart necklace around her throat, brushed her hair into some semblance of orderliness and was all set. The things about Mikan was that though she may not have all the material, she certainly knew how to put them together to achieve the best effect.

It didn't hurt that she had a body that looked good in most everything.

Natsume was waiting outside and surprise of surprise, it was a bloody Merc.

"Nice car," she said sarcastically as she eased into the seat beside him, tucking her dress prudishly close to her knees. "Very unobtrusive."

It was true, her neighbors were peeking out their windows and pointing. She lived in a middle class neighborhood and it was well known she and her dad didn't get out much. So a big shiny car parked outside her very door. Hmm. Very blatantly out of place.

He shrugged. "You'll have to deal."

She gave him the address and settled herself in. Ten minutes later, he was pulling to a smooth stop at the curb. Mikan, who had been lulled by the muted sound and comfortable interiors and the cold air-conditioned air into a semi-warm happy place didn't say anything when he get out. He got back in again in a few minutes, a chunky looking wrapped parcel in his hand.

The second time he stopped it was near two huge open gates, flanking a long driveway. "You're out here, Polka."

"Hmm?" she questioned, obediently sliding out. He rolled down the window. "It may be better if we aren't seen together."

She was a bit hurt but she understood his reasoning. She tossed her hair and the insult over her shoulder. "Well, whatever. Thanks for the ride."

He was holding out the parcel which he'd unwrapped to show a large basket, looking straight ahead with a bored expression. "Here." He clipped out.

A bit nonplussed, she took it. Peering inside, she saw a bundle of butterscotch cookies, ribald with nuts and dried raisins. "Oh," she said hesitantly, fingers crinkling around the wrapping. "You shouldn't have." Because really, how did one thank someone who apparently had such a terrible attitude on the outside and then... went and did something so completely turnaround like this? A thought crossed her mind. "How much did it-"

He looked up at that, a warning light in his eye for her to not go any further. "Consider it reparation for..."- a lip curled, -"for all those _nasty shocks_."

She stood there open mouthed as he took the turn through the gates.

There was no saving his soul, not really.

Muttering things that weren't meant for children, and it was a good thing none were around, she began the trek to the front door. It was a good two minutes before she saw anything even resembling a house. The doors were wide open and she had a strange sense of deja vu. _I've been here before..._

Shaking her head, she walked past some cars which were parked in the shade under the large terrace which extended over the house in the front, and slipped inside the flung-wide doors. There was no use waiting for someone to come out and find her, she reasoned. It was better she find her own way. But she stopped in the entry hall, boggled out of her mind.

Okay this, was even more upscale and tasteful than that hotel. This was like, regency romance settings meet modern carte blanche. Everything was sleek and polished and shiny and oh god, were those framed paintings actually genuine worth-so-many-millions? did she really want to do this?

"Mikan!" A familiar voice reached her ears and she turned a bit stiffly to see Sumire walking toward her, clip-clopping in extremely high stilettos. "Oh thank God you came. I was beginning to think I would have to endure this alone." She touched Mikan on the arm, smiling faintly.

"What do you mean?" Mikan asked, gripping the basket more tightly. "I haven't been set up to babysit a bunch of teenagers who'd rather chuck cookies at each other than sell them, have I?"

Sumire stared. "You... have quite the wonderful little imagination, darling. Fortunately for you, that is not in the cards for today. No, but you'll soon see what I mean," she promised darkly.

"Oh," Mikan digested the ominous warning. "If you don't want to, why don't you just-"

But Sumire was already shaking her head. "It's a parent thing. They decided it would be a good thing if we... kids, all got together and sold cookies for the charities they fund. So all, whether twelve, or twenty or god forbid thirty turn up for these things. Thankfully, the ones selling are the attractive ones, if you know what I mean, for the sake of sales of course. So who invited you for this," her lip twitched, "shebang."

Mikan smothered a laugh. "A girl called Masaki."

Sumire eyed Mikan appraisingly. "Well, you're definitely selling. She has good taste. With a bit of help, you could turn out to be a stunning diva."

Mikan knew exactly what help meant, but wasn't offended. This was Sumire after all. There was no way to take offense.

"Hey Mikan," a shy voice stuttered. "You m-might not remember but-"

"It's Nobara, isn't it?" Mikan greeted warmly. "You look really nice."

The other girl blushed. "Thank you," she said and seemed content to say nothing more. Nobara stood there, nervous fingers pulling at her white summer dress with a hesitant look.

Mikan knew what shyness did to people. It had been hard to fit in when she first arrived in the states. Nobara, she realized, hadn't outgrown her shy phase. She nudged the girl. "Bought any cookies?"

Nobara smiled. "Yep. I like baking. What about you," she stuttered hopefully.

Mikan proudly help up the bag. "I brought these."

Nobara peered inside. "Wow. They look really good. You must be really wonderful at cooking."

Mikan'e eyebrows rose in surprise and she opened her mouth to deny it when someone else cut in.

"Why if that isn't our little resident artist." Misaki came to a stop besides them where they were standing near a starcase. "You're here too? No rest for the wicked eh?"

Nobara cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

A wily smile grew on Misaki's face. "Oh, nothing," she said airily. "Just heard that our Mikan was dropped home last week by a certain gorgeous hunk. On a deathtrap of a motor-cycle. Tell me, did you hold him tight?" she teased, mimicking a loving embrace.

Mikan's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Did everyone know? What was this? "I er... Koko was supposed to drop me home, but there was an emergency and Hyuuga volunteered," she hastily improvised. "His car had an um, one of it's tires was flat. So that's why..."

She faltered under two grinning gazes and a slightly disbelieving one.

"Right," Misaki drawled. "Sure. Of course we believe you. Just know that we've got our eyes on you, pretty girl." She tapped Mikan's nose and grinned when she pouted. "You'll have all our boys twisted around your fingers if you'd just try. You look good but you need a little something more to spark just the right bit. Any help, Sumire?"

Sumire patted her tote. "I have everything I need. You coming to help?"

"Why certainly," a Cheshire cat grin spread across Misaki's face. "How could I not?"

"Guys," Mikan started, in fear for the sanctity of her being remaining intact. "What exactly are you planning?"

"In fact, I might just do something now," Sumire announced, taking Mikan's hand and ushering her along. She took the basket and placed it on a table which Mikan saw held a lot many similar bundles of baked goods. "Do come along dear."

In five minutes Mikan found herself cornered in the washroom along with Sumire, Misaki and the shy Nobara who'd been turned to the dark side with suspiciously little difficulty.

"Just a little more," Sumire was pleading and Mikan was masterfully ignoring the puppy dog pout which she seemed to have successfully stolen from Koko. "Come on, Mikan."

"Nuh-uh." She raised her hands and stared into the mirror. "This is the point where I put my foot down." She looked stunningly different. What amazing things a good mascara and liner and foundation and lip gloss, etc, etc al. could do. Already her face was looking more defined and sharp, her eyes doing what Misaki called, 'popping'. But Mikan drew the line at lipstick. Coral lipstick. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"Fine," Sumire threw her hands up in mock annoyance, an eep coming from Nobara who just narrowly avoided being hit by a vicious elbow. "I give in! You can go out there like this but be warned, next time..."

"She won't be so easy-going," Misaki completed with a husky laugh. "It seems Sumire's regressed back to playing with her dolls."

Sumire batted her away. "Oh, hush, you. C'mon Mikan, Nobara, I think things should be nearly ready by now. I heard the cars drive up."

"Cars?" Mikan questioned.

"Oh that." Sumire paused, an uncertain look descending on her features. "Didn't anyone mention it to you? The sale isn't happening here. We're going to Round park."

* * *

><p><strong>An: So I realized I hadn't updated in so long and this chapter is just to show that no I'm not leaving this story. It will continue to get updated. To the very end!**

**Muse: How are you planning on doing that?**

**Clarinda: **I'm gonna work. Also, when I get enough for a brand new laptop, I'm gonna empty my piggybank and get custom lasers installed. Sounds good, right?

**Muse:...**

**Yours**

**Clarinda**


	11. Around The Trees

**A CRIMINAL DESIRE**

CHAPTER TEN

_**Around The Trees **_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> You think I own Gakuen Alice? No? Well, I disclaim all rights to it anyway, cuz I know you all are a bunch of clever little lawyers in suits.

**Note:** Don't hit me?

* * *

><p><em>I had a dream today<em>  
><em>Somewhere I've never been before<em>  
><em>An old familiar face<em>  
><em>One that I swear I've seen before<em>

_And I think I'm going crazy_  
><em>Yes I think I'm going crazy<em>  
><em>But I known, all along<em>  
><em>But there's no restitution for what we've done<em>  
><em>No resolution and I<em>

_I just can't take it anymore_

_-Dreaming by Mayer Hawthorne_

* * *

><p><em>"Fine," Sumire threw her hands up in mock annoyance, an eep coming from Nobara who just narrowly avoided being hit by a vicious elbow. "I give in! You can go out there like this but be warned, next time..."<em>

_"-she won't be so easy-going," Misaki completed with a husky laugh. "It seems Sumire's regressed back to playing with dolls."_

_Sumire batted her away. "Oh, hush, you. C'mon Mikan, Nobara, I think things should be nearly ready by now. I heard the cars drive up."_

_She turned to peer out the window, stuffing her feminine instruments of torture back inside her surprisingly tiny tote._

_"Cars?" Mikan questioned._

_"Oh that." Sumire paused, an uncertain look descending on her features. "Didn't anyone mention it to you? We're going to Round park."_

* * *

><p>Round Park.<p>

It was like an avalanche had come roaring down and hit her dead on. As if the total ferocity of mother nature was concentrated into that on single damaging punch that slammed directly into her gut and fractured out like a radial wave of fear and nausea, threatening to send her plummeting downward.

Mikan was unusually quiet. She sat in the backseat of a sleek car with Misaki, Nobara and Sumire, all three of whom kept shooting her looks, ranging from sympathetic, to curious, to wary that she would suddenly erupt and start crying or pitch a fit hysterically. They might not be that far off actually.

They were on the way to the park...t-the park that-

_-denial pain refusal no nonono-_

Sumire had offered to take her home but Mikan had declined, saying she could't keep running from this. She couldn't keep avoiding that place forever (though her attempts so far had been pretty successful).To Nobara and Misaki who were looking on with controlled curiosity, Sumire had explained the situation in hushed tones while Mikan sat and stared out the window, eyes unfocused, hands clenched till her knuckles bled white.

She just knew this would stir up feelings she had striven so hard to contain within.

A flash of Natsume's words came back to her. You can't keep crying forever, she told herself sternly. You have to move on. Her mouth quirked unhappily. The dead would stay dead. Only memories would remain. And even those would fade away one day.

"Mikan?" She looked over. "If you want to leave at any time...ditch this whole idea... just say the word, okay?" Misaki winked and nudged her shoulder, giving her hand a quick comforting squeeze. Nobara nodded along jerkily, eyes filled with concern but refraining from voicing her thoughts. Huh. She'd have to break the girl of that habit, cute as it was.

Mikan nodded back, smiling faintly. It seemed she really had to revise her opinions of what she'd imagined people with tons of money were like. Or their children, what she had seem so far, they were extremely nice mostly, if a bit spoiled and not at all the entitled snobs she'd expected.

These three had hearts in the right place. She was extremely fortunate to have met them and she would have glady expressed this if it weren't for the car suddenly slowing down.

The car drew up near the entrance. Looking out the window, Mikan saw a few people unloading large cardboard boxes from a van. It seemed as if these were the baked goods that they were going to be selling. Compared to those, hers were not even worth mentioning.

Her cheeks puffed out. Ugh.

Then they opened up the boxes, and many more smaller baskets and wrapped packets and tins were taken out. She immediately felt much better. Score for Natsume, she thought a bit guiltily. She really didn't know how to handle that enigmatic personality of his.

Getting out of the car and waiting for the others to join her, Mikan stared up at the tall ivy encrusted gates of the park. They loomed overhead forbiddingly like dark sentinels.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside. Sumire directed them to several tables laden with goods, thankfully far far from the place her dad was... was found.

"These are ours. The price tags have already been attached. All we have to do is sell them. Some people sell, others walk around with free samples and some others are assigned to make sure no one gets away with anything. You woludn't believe how many kids and surprisingly adults too think stealing cookies from charity is a good idea." Sumire rolled her artfully made-up eyes.

Mikan cocked her head. "Really?" She managed a weak smile. "Well, okay then. Who does what?"

"You came!" A voice enthused and Masaki was suddenly upon them, all bright dazzling colors and beaming smiles. "Oh, don't you look fab! Here!" She thrust a clipboard at Mikan. "You're selling, Sumire too. You can collect any donations they want to make them above the selling price of the items. Oh, and uh, Misaki, you can do your usual if you want. Just, try not to break anybody's fingers this time please?" She cast a beseeching look at the pink haired girl and wrung her hands agitatedly.

Mikan took a moment to stare at Misaki who looked extremely pleased with herself. "She wasn't kidding," Mikan whispered in an undertone to herself, remembering Misaki's threats to Koko, which suddenly took on a whole new light in this situation. The candy hair had disguised a real menacing woman to be a seemingly sweet sprite.

"And Nobara, you can pass out samples." Nobara whimpered, and decidedly looked like the weight of the world had suddenly descended on her shoulders.

Masaki smiled cheerfully and sailed off to accost some more people who'd arrived, throwing a last wave over her shoulder. She was bubbling with energy and looked very excited as she fluttered from group to group like a butterfly. Mikan watchd her go wistfully. Ah to be like that with no care in the world.

"Okay, Mikan, you're with me," Sumire said decisively, snapping manicured fingers. "Let's go."

Soon, they were standing behind a table set out a little away from the others. Only the two of them were there behind the table which was already groaning under the weight of all kinds of sweet and goody stuff. Sumire heaved a sigh and tossed the clipboard down. "Thank God. I was afraid we wouldn't get this one." She patted the table fondly.

"Why?" Mikan asked.

Sumire nodded toward the right. Mikan looked. The other tables nearer the entrance were teeming with people. Lots of little kids were chasing each other around the unfortunate feet of the servers and sellers. It was absolute pandemonium. The noise level alone was staggering.

"This one always sees less attention. I don't know why but it's totally a godsend." Sumire fanned herself with a soft groan. "Let's sit down, shall we."

Sumire was right. They saw a decent level of activity but not as much as the other tables. It may also have to do with the fact that Sumire glared every possible buyer half out of their want for cookies and straight into whimpering submission.

Half an hour later and she would have gotten on her knees and thanked Sumire if she'd asked. Some dubiously inspired kids had upturned one table, then set a dog loose near another which scared all the girls there into shrieking, which scared the dog into more frenzied barking which then continued the trend. Misaki was walking around, grinning and cracking her fists, five unfortunate kids and one adult already under her belt.

"How long is this again?" Mikan whispered under her breath. Dangit, she'd not taken her cell. Hyuuga's fault, that mean smirky-

"Two hours, tops. Some of the other parents come and make donations too."

Mikan sighed, then saw with surprised amusement that her basket had landed up at her table. "Just look at that," she murmured, mouth curving, hand reaching for it. Unfortunately for her, at the same time her fingers curled over the handle, another warm set dropped down over them with cool intent.

"How much?" Asked a deliberately low pitched and extremely familiar baritone.

"Ah...er..." Mikan forgot everything the moment his ruby eyes crinkling at the corners stared into her own, coaxing her to share that secret joke that everybody seemed so fond of.

"Ten dollars," Sumire cut in, rolling her eyes. "Oi, Hyuuga. What are you doing here?"

He smiled widely and heat frissioned through Mikan's face. Slowly, he pried Mikan's nerveless fingers away from the basket and handed a bill to Sumire. "Nothing really. Did you hear? Imai's here. You think someone went and invented seacrab cookies?"

It was a message, Mikan realized immediately. To find Hotaru. She watched him as he walked away, tight jeans so perfectly hugging his-

"You have got it so bad."

Mikan didn't bother to deny it. "I need to use the bathroom," she murmured absently, getting up and following Natsume with her eyes.

A snort. "Is that what they call it now? Go on then, kiddo. But I expect all the details later."

Mikan didn't wonder why Sumire would want the details of her excursion.

She followed Natsume, convincing herself that she did need to stare at his legs because otherwise she might lose him. It was a very pathetic excuse, even to her but it wasn't like anyone else would need her explanation or ask her for one. She'd never seen him like this after all, and never in this particular pair of tight jeans. They looked like they'd been painted on. Her fingers itched for a pencil, mouth watering at the though of capturing him on canvas, all sleek lines and fluid muscles.

She swallowed when she realized her misbehaving thoughts had distracted from the fact that they were heading nearer that place. Last time she was here, it had been cordoned off to the public with stern faced officers all around, and flashing lights and technicians with grim faces who spoke in obfuscated terms that went over her spinning head.

Her interest perked up when she saw Hotaru sitting on a bench, calmly sipping a mocha latte. Her legs were crossed and she had all the look of enjoying a peaceful moment of relaxation. When she saw Mikan, she gracefully inclined her head toward the seat. Mikan took it. Natsume vanished almost immediately. She refused to acknowledge her disappointment but there was something that caught Mikan's attention and kept it.

A slim blond man stood behind Hotaru who looked to be in his early twenties. Objectively, he was good looking. He had all the things that she saw in spy movies, the dark glasses, curly wire thing at the ear, mouthpiece and his repectful stance also made her suspect he was another employee. Most likely a body guard. A very hot bodyguard. He felt so familiar. Somehow she just knew the eyes behind those dark shades would be purple.

_A cold sort of purple._

She'd been having deja-vu moments all day. Just what was going on?

Hotaru waved a hand. "This is Rui," she introduced. "He's my... assistant." Yep, body guard all right.

"Right," Mikan replied. She waved a little. "Hey Rui. Nice to meet you."

The corners of Hotaru's lips twitched. Rui nodded very slightly. Mikan stared perplexed at the both of them. Like master like employee huh.

"So... er, Natsume said you were waiting for me..." Mikan prompted after no one spoke for an entire minute

"Indeed," Hotaru took another nonchalant sip. "I'm billing you per minute by the way."

Geez. Imai and her obsession. Was there really anything you could say to that?

She nodded intelligently, hoping she wouldn't have to finally sell herself off to pay off all and sundry. "So do you have any leads?"

Hotaru nodded. "Yes. Hyuuga is following one up today. It may give us just what we need to progress a step further."

"You mean the dealer thing?" Mikan asked and could have bit her tongue the next moment. Oh crap. He'd warned her to keep her mouth shut and look at what she'd gone and done.

Violet eyes narrowed. "He told you." It wasn't a question. "I expect utter discretion from my clients. I expect you do know that discretion is indeed the better part of of my clients tend to take things into their own hands after gaining enough information. I assume I am under no compulsion to have to warn you of the consequences if you do decide to try and do anything to jeopardize this case; to put it bluntly, I will cease all involvement on my behalf, Sakura-san if you try interfere."

Mikan grumbled beneath her breath. "That's almost the same thing he said," she muttered, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Damn it! What was wrong with her? Why did her brain keep making her say what she thought aloud?

Hotaru surveyed her doubtfully. "Do you feel unwell?"

"No!" She said quickly. "I'm fine." Her gaze wandered off awkwardly and sharpened. It seemed as if Hotaru's guard was surreptitiously trying to overhear. She knew enough of body posture and anatomy to realize it. S

he wondered if Hotaru knew that he was listening in. But possibly, it was his job to do that and make sure Mikan wouldn't try attack her or something stupid like that. Here she was taking her suspicions and running away with them again. Just cause she didn''t understand why...

Ugh! she gave up. Still, she couldn't put away his familiarity.

"By the way," she started, picking at her dress nervously, "though it's none of my business, I couldn't help but noticing, the other day..."

Mikan knew she was treading dangerous waters.

"Yes?"

It was there in the way Hotaru twitched just ever so slightly.

"You...uhm, didn't really give him a chance to explain..." Mikan threw a look at the guard, uncomfortable bringing this up here and now, but she didn't see any other option where she would't be meeting Hotaru soon in an other than official capacity.

Hotaru's eyes sharpened, showing she was clearly aware of who he was. "If you heard anything," she said, voice perfectly modulated, "you would also have heard my response." Her tone screamed a sophisticated back-off-or-else.

"Yes but you haven't listened to his!" Mikan argued back. She was set on the path of getting them back together. Making the other woman even contemplate giving Ruka a chance was on way to go about it.

"He has good reasons, I-" she trailed off. She didn't know whether Ruka would appreciate her interfering like this, or telling Hotaru of his reasons. No, what she needed was a chance for Hotaru to hear them from the horse's mouth, as it were.

Hotaru got up. "I do not need to hear his reasons when I have physical evidence of his infidelity. Tapes are damning things, Miss. Sakura." She tossed a small manila file next to Mikan. "That contains a schedule for future meetings. Hyuuga will act as messenger should you want to reach me otherwise." She turned and motioned for Rui to go on ahead.

Looking back at Mikan, her eyes iced over. "And I quite agree, it is none of your business. It would most surely benefit the tone of further meetings it if you kept from mentioning this ever again."

She turned and stalked off, all icy glamour and remote coldness.

Mikan sat there in a contemplative stupor for a while before she noticed some one sitting down next to her.

"I don't think Ruka has a snowball's chance in hell."

She heard a low sound of air being displaced, like an exasperated huff. When his voice came, it was nothing but amused. "Playing matchmaker?"

"Maker-up-er," she corrected. "Those two need to sit down together and work out just what happened that day."

He shook his head. "Imai has her pride. She won't give in so easily."

"Good things never come cheap," Mikan stated philosophically. "I like her. They'd be good together."

"Mmm. Want a seacrab cookie?"

Startled, Mikan looked over. He wsa holding out a small cookie shaped like a crab with sticky caramel legs and nutty eyes.

Breaking into a slight giggle, Mikan accepted it. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "Better than yours. Try and learn from it." He leaned back onto the bench and spread a lazy arm along its marbled top, raising an eyebrow.

She shook her head. "You're purposefully being difficult," she accused, chewing through a mouth full of warm sticky sweetness. _Ah, yummy!_

"I am?" he mused. "I just thought it was part of my so charming personality. Besides, it seems no one cares for my opinion anyway."

"Oh, you remember that?" She pretended to ponder deeply. "I believe Koko agreed."

It was nice to just sit and talk, pretend nothing was going on, just two people having a friendly conversation.

"He did?" Natsume twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, appearing totally unconcerned that he was _touching her hair._

"Mnnhmm," Mikan hummed breathlessly.

"Well, actually, that reminds me. I actually need your opinion on something." His eyelids drew down, shuttering the light of his eyes. He was suddenly closer to her than she expected.

"On what?" Mikan found she was holding her breath. There was a curiously tight feeling spreading inside her like a bubble about to burst.

"On whether,"- his face was almost brushing hers, his minty breath tickling her skin, -"you'd prefer silk and lace,"- his face tilted against hers, -" to plain, boring old cotton."

Wha-

What?

Mikan's heart pounded in hear ears as she tried to comprehend what he'd just said when she had to deal with the warm air blowing over her lips and the scent of him searing deliciously into her brain. His mouth touched hers then, lightly, a fleeting press. Teeth followed and then a quick swipe of his tongue across her lower lip to soothe the sting.

She breathed in something dark, smoked and spicy and simply _Natsume_. It drowned her senses in a heady wave of want. He was drawing away. A slight smirk played over his lips. "Well?"

"Huh?" She still didn't have any better retort so it was still the only contender for best response ever.

The smirk turned into a full blown smile.

"Oh," her face colored hotly as she registered what had just happened and she gave an embarrassed squeak of mortification and balled up her fist and smacked him in the shoulder. "Jerk! Pervert! How dare you ask me that!"

She mutely avoided mentioning the- the kiss that he'd just given her.

He laughed silently. "You should go. Sumire's probably pretty cross with you for stranding her there alone." He sat back again casually, arm stretched wide over the seat-back, smirk curling his lips devilishly.

"Oh yea!" Mikan jumped up, smoothing her dress down and fixing her hair nervously. "She's probably getting ideas! I should go." She fretted nervously and turned away, almost tripping in her haste.

Striding away on legs that seriously threatened to imitate jelly, and not daring to turn around, she was thankful that he couldn't see her face anymore. Of all the idiotic things she could have said or done, the classic, dazed huh... she was such a total moron!

Sumire was smiling a cat's smile. "As good as they claim he is?"

Mikan slumped into a seat, the words striking a still tender chord. "Not you too," she moaned miserably. "How?"

She couldn't deny it. "You look like someone kissed the hell out of you," Sumire said smugly, not mincing matters. "Dazed, flushed and completely clueless. Its a good look. And it's obviously Hyuuga since both of you disappeared and reappeared at the same time. Talk about _blatant obviousness_."

Mikan thumped her head on the innocent table. "I'm so confused..."

Sumire huffed. "Aren't we all? Now pack up, we're leaving." Somehow the table had managed to empty itself in her absence. Mikan shot Sumire a grateful look. "So how much did we make?"

"A lot." Sumire tossed her a sly look. "It was pretty hard work, darling, and all by my lonesome. I'm exhausted."

Mikan instantly felt guilty. But to her indignation, she realized Sumire was baiting her.

"I'm not telling you anything."

Sumire shrugged one tanned shoulder. "They all break," she promised Mikan, a mischievous look in her eye. "I have ways."

"I'm shaking I am." Mikan returned, heaving a gusty sigh. The sun was going down in the far distance, turning everything to pastel and hues of orangey-gold. "What's the time?"

"Its half past six. It took longer than usual, what with you sneaking off to exchange kisses with your young man."

"He is not my-urgh, Sumire!" Mikan protested.

"Sure, sure." Sumire replied, patronizingly sweet. "Where do you want to be dropped off? I can take you. Or not."

Mikan shook her head. "I'm not telling," she declared, smiling widely. "Try your best."

Later that night, as she sat, watching TV(the cable was due to out in two weeks) she pondered the fact that not once had she felt nauseous or sick at the park like times before. Huh, that was new.

Well, she thought, glancing down at her phone, into which she'd imputed four new numbers, a warm feeling glowing in her chest, change maybe isn't always bad.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So that happened. Yay! First kiss! Denial is Mikan's favorite river!**

**Clarinda: Uh, hey, sorry about the disappearance. Reinventing myself, undergoing an identity change. But, no excuses. Feel free to hate me, but I'll probably cry the Nile if you do...**

** Enjoy yourself!**

**Muse: She's still an idiot who gets by only because I tell her how to brush her teeth. Among other things**

**Clarinda: You're lucky! I was gonna end the chapter like this, but I didn't!**

_-Suddenly the door bell rang. And kept ringing like someone had their hand jammed against it. Mikan frowned in irritation then surprise. Who could that be? She dated a glance at the clock. Eleven pm. It could only be-_

_On fast feet, she tumbled off the seat and was running to open the door. No way! It had to be-!_

_Her mouth open to say something witty, or something clever as she pulled the door open, she froze in unadulterated horror at the sight framed in her door like a scene straight out of a horror movie._

_She screamed._

**Muse: Still an idiot. Also she drew a new cover for the story. Hopefully you all like it.**

**Adieu, all yours**

**Clarinda**


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